HP: The Path of Trials
by marcwill90
Summary: Just when he thought his summer was eventful enough, Marcus Williams enters his fourth year of Hogwarts to astonishing news, one that makes him feel greatly uneasy. New revelations and events will rattle the white haired wizard, but will he emerge the same person from before? Not if someone has their say about it...
1. (01) Rising In The Darkness

**Hello, everyone, and welcome to the next installment in my series, HP: The Path of Trials! My apologies for the prolonged release. I wanted to try and complete all the chapters in this installment, but since July 9th is my birthday, and there have been some requests for the release, I've decided to break from my plan and post it anyway! Also, I have some arts ideas that I want to use as book covers, so if anyone is interested, let me know! So, before this gets started...**

 **Disclaimer: Once again, I must claim no ownership of the Harry Potter series. I can, however, claim ownership of all OCs that appear in this fanfiction, so no stealing!**

 **Now, here is...**

Chapter 1: Rising In The Darkness

 **Let's get started!**

 _ **Somewhere in the U.S...**_

Lifting weights, rep after rep, a man with straight black hair and a slight curl to his bangs, with red eyes, wearing black workout clothes and shoes, a man greatly feared by the Wizarding World, known widely by his horrendous deeds in the First Wizarding War, the man known as the Dark Prince.

As he finished his workout, he knew he had a long ways to go. Spending all that time in Azkaban had deteriorated most of his muscle strength, but he knew it was inevitable. He could've only maintained so much of it with magic, after all. But, he welcomed the challenge of regaining his former physical strength. Even more so that he only had a limited time to do it...

As he took his shower, washing away the sweat from his rigorous training, he reflected on the time he'd spent in Azkaban as well as the short time since he set himself free. Of course, it wasn't surprising. The different Wizarding nations were already ablaze with determination to stop him. But, they were full of fear, as well. He scoffed at the new implementations currently setting in place, knowing they were about as useful as an army of Squibs. He knew none could stop his plans...none, except one...

He was just making his way out of the establishment when he heard an annoying, squeaking voice say in his head, _"My Prince, are you there? My Prince, come in."_

His brief satisfaction gave way to sheer annoyance as he pressed his left shoulder with his right index finger and thought, _"What do you want, Wormtail?"_

 _"My Prince, it's the Dark Lord. He's requesting your presence immediately."_

The Dark Prince merely sighed and thought, _"Can't you be useful and hold him off for a few minutes? I've still to change in my proper attire and I'm surrounded by Muggles."_

 _"I'm afraid not, my Prince. He's growing more irate as we speak."_

He emitted a growl and thought, _"Well, too bad, Wormtail, because that's exactly what you're going to do. A few minutes, that's all."_

 _"But-"_

He then released his finger off of the crown symbol resting on his left shoulder, unable to stand his voice any longer. He found himself an alleyway suitable enough to hurry and change into his proper attire and, upon pocketing his wand, apparated on the spot...

* * *

 _ **Riddle Residence...**_

He arrived on the doorstep of the decrepit, shamed form that was once the Riddle residence. He could only imagine how grand it used to be, before it got to be in the horrible condition it was now.

He stepped inside and heard Wormtail trying to stall Voldemort. Making his way up the stairs, he formed a rather humored smirk at the thought of such a ridiculous name bringing fear to magic folk across the UK. It was, at the very least, amusing. If only they knew who he _really_ was...

He opened the door, saw Wormtail, and said, "Ah, Wormtail. Go stand in the corner or something, and don't talk."

Wormtail immediately scampered into the furthest corner possible.

The Dark Prince then stood in front of Voldemort, as frail and sorry-looking he was, gave a slight bow and said in a serious tone, "I'm sorry for my late appearance, My Lord. You caught me in the middle of one of my workouts."

"Indeed," the high, cold pitch of Voldemort said. "Why waste your time with those petty exercises, my Prince? Surely, with your magical power -"

"If I'm to regain my former self and all that it entails, it is vital to ensure I work my way back to where I used to be. All that time in Azkaban doesn't exactly do a body good."

"I'm sure," Voldemort replied with an indifferent tone. "Regardless, I wanted your presence to go over what we have planned."

"Ah, of course."

Suddenly, he heard Wormtail say, "There is a little more in the bottle, My Lord, if you are still hungry."

"Later," said Voldemort, once again in the same indifferent tone. "Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail."

As he was doing so, The Dark Prince felt that his time here was being wasted, especially when it could be spent elsewhere. Surely, he didn't have to be here, acting like a servant like Wormtail was.

"Where is Nagini?" asked Voldemort.

"I - I don't know, My Lord," said Wormtail nervously. "She set out to explore the house, I think..."

"You think?" said the Dark Prince, anger seeping through his words. "Surely, it's not that hard to -"

"That will do," said Voldemort, and he silenced himself. Voldemort then said, "You will milk her before we retire, Wormtail. I will need feeding in the night. The journey has tired me greatly."

"Indeed," said the Dark Prince. "As long as you get nourishment from Nagini every night, we should be able to move again if we have to."

"My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay here?"

"Why don't you answer that question for me, my Prince?" said Voldemort.

The Dark Prince sighed and said, "At least a week, perhaps even longer than that. This place, despite its appearance, is acceptingly comfortable, and the plan cannot proceed at this time. At the very least, it would be foolish to act before the Quidditch World Cup is over."

In that moment, the Dark Prince heard an almost mute sound from the door. He surmised that it was that Muggle caretaker that lived on the property, but decided not to do anything.

"The - the Quidditch World Cup? Forgive me, but - I do not understand - why should we wait until the World Cup is over?"

"Because, fool, at this very moment wizards are pouring into the country from all over the world, and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity, checking with security, lest the Muggles notice anything. So we wait."

The Dark Prince took a note of how true his statement was. While it would be mere child's play to bombard the event, muscle atrophied or not, he knew better than to try and get around Michael Williams, who would most certainly expect something from him.

"Your Lordship is still determined, then?" Wormtail said quietly.

"Of course he's still determined, Wormtail," the Dark Prince said with more hatred in his voice.

It was quiet for a couple of seconds before Wormtail said, "It could be done without Harry Potter, My Lord."

The Dark Prince glanced at Wormtail, suprised by such a statement from the peon. Surely, he wasn't going to deliberately mess up his _own_ plan, would he?

"Without Harry Potter?" breathed Voldemort. "I see..."

"My Lord, I do not say this out of concern for the boy!" said Wormtail, his voice rising squeakily. "The boy is nothing to me, nothing at all! It is merely that if we were to use another witch or wizard - any wizard - the thing could be done so much more quickly! If you allowed me to leave you for a short while - you know that I can disguise myself most effectively - I could be be back here in as little as two days with a suitable person -"

"I could use another wizard," said Voldemort softly, "that is true..."

"My Lord, it makes sense," said Wormtail, sounding thoroughly relieved. "Laying hands on Harry Potter would be so difficult, he is so well protected...we could try another person... say, M -"

The Dark Prince, knowing who he was going to suggest, abruptly said, "And so you volunteer to go and fetch your master a substitute? I wonder, Wormtail...perhaps the task of nursing your master has become wearisome for you? Could this suggestion of abandoning the plan be nothing more than an attempt to desert him?"

"No! I - I have no wish to leave my master, none at all -"

"Do not lie, Wormtail!" hissed Voldemort. "I can always tell! You are regretting that you ever returned to me. I revolt you. I see you flinch when you look at me, feel you shudder when you touch me..."

"No! My devotion to Your Lordship -"

"Your devotion?" asked the Dark Prince rhetorically. "Your devotion is simply nothing more than cowardice, you pathetic sack of flesh. If you had anywhere else you could go, I am more than confident you wouldn't be here."

He then gestured to Voldemort and continued, "How is the Dark Lord to survive without you, when he needs to feed every few hours? Who would be the one to milk Nagini?"

"But, My Lord -" Wormtail turned his head to look at Voldemort - "you seem so much stronger -"

"Liar," he breathed. "I am no stronger, and a few days alone would be enough to rob me of the little health I have regained under your clumsy care. _Silence!_ "

Wormtail, who was sputtering incoherent nonsense, fell silent at once.

"I have my reasons for using the boy, as I have already explained to you, and I will use no other. I have waited thirteen years. A few more months will make no difference. As for the protection surrounding the boy, I believe my plan will be effective, as will the Dark Prince's. All that is needed is a little courage from you, Wormtail - courage you will find, unless you wish to feel the full extent of Lord Voldemort's wrath -"

"My Lord, I must speak!" said Wormtail, his panic quite evident. "All through our journey I have gone over the plan in my head - My Lord, Bertha Jorkins's disappearance will not go unnoticed for long, and if we proceed, if I murder -"

"If?" whispered Voldemort. " _If_? If you follow the plan, Wormtail, the Ministry need never know that anyone else has died. You will do it quietly and without fuss; I only wish that I could do it myself, but in my present condition...Come, Wormtail, one more death and our path to Harry Potter is clear. I am not asking you to do it alone. By that time, my _other faithful_ servant will have rejoined us -"

" _I_ am a faithful servant," said Wormtail, the merest trace of sullenness in his voice.

"Wormtail, wake up," said the Dark Prince in a nasty tone. "Your master needs somebody else with brains, somebody who has never wavered, like myself. You, peon, fulfill neither requirement."

"I found you, My Lord," said Wormtail, and there was no mistaking the sulkinness in his voice now. "I was the one who found you. I brought you Bertha Jorkins."

" _We_ found the Dark Lord together, you piece of trash!" the Dark Prince growled. He then turned to the Dark Lord and said, "Although he is worthless, My Lord, he does bring up a reasonable argument: He _is_ the one who brought forth Bertha Jorkins."

"Yes, quite," said Voldemort, amused by the thought. "A stroke of brilliance I would not have thought possible from you, Wormtail - though, if truth be told, you were not aware how useful she would be when you caught her, were you?"

"I - I thought she might be useful, My Lord -"

"Liar," said Voldemort, his cruel amusement more pronounced than before. "However, I do not deny that her information was invaluable. Without it, I could never have formed our plan, and for that, you will have your reward, Wormtail. I will allow you to perform an essential task for me, one that many of my followers would give their right hands to perform..."

There was no denying the smirk that formed on The Dark Prince's face, knowing full well what Riddle was implying. The pathetic fool, Wormtail, must've felt the same implication, for he stuttered in a terrifying way, "R-really, My Lord? What -?"

"Ah, Wormtail, surely you wouldn't want to ruin the surprise?" The Dark Prince said, making sure to keep the peon in the dark. After all, he thought, it would do no one any good to keep a vital part of the plan, useless as he was, to go scampering off.

Wormtail adamently shook his head, to which Riddle stated, "After all, Wormtail, your part will come at the very end... but I promise you, you will have the honor of being just as useful as Bertha Jorkins."

"You...you..." Wormtail's voice had gone hoarse, sounding very parched, devoid of any moisture. "You...are going...to kill me too?"

"Wormtail, Wormtail," said Riddle's cold voice silkily. "why would I kill you? I killed Bertha becuase I had to. She was fit for nothing after my questioning, quite useless. In any case, awkward questions would have been asked if she had gone back to the Ministry with the news that she had met you on her holidays. Wizards who are supposed to be dead would do well not to run into Ministry of Magic witches at wayside inns..."

The Dark Prince's eyebrows grew furrowed, bothered by the events that transpired in that part of the Albanian forest. If it were not for his quick thinking and even quicker actions, who knows what would've happened.

"We..." Wormtail spoke in a little more than a subtle squeak, "We could've modified her memory."

" _Modify her memory?"_ The Dark Prince scorned, insulted by such a suggestion. "You idiot! Memory charms can be broken by powerful magic folk, as The Dark Lord demonstrated against Bertha Jorkins."

"Besides, Wormtail," said Riddle with a trace of amusement, "it would be an insult to her _memory_ not to use the information I extracted from her."

"One more murder," Riddle stated. "My faithful servant at Hogwarts...Harry Potter is as good as mine, Wormtail. It is decided. There will be no more argument. But quiet... I think I hear Nagini..."

Immediately, Riddle began to speak in what was no doubt Parseltongue. What sounded like nothing more than hissing and spitting made for great communication with snakes. Even though he considered himself well-versed in many things, The Dark Prince found himself grateful that Parseltongue was not one of them.

Sure enough, Riddle's faithful pet snake, Nagini, came slithering into the room, all twelve feet of her winding body approaching Riddle, communicating back with her master. Though he could not speak Parseltongue, The Dark Prince was willing to bet that she was telling Riddle of the presence standing outside the door, the same presence he felt when their meeting first began.

"Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail," Riddle told his worthless servant.

"In-indeed, My Lord?" said Wormtail.

"Indeed, yes," said Riddle. "According to Nagini, there is an old Muggle standing right outside this room, listening to every word we say."

" _Finally!_ " thought The Dark Prince as he brought his left hand to the right side of his body and, very suddenly, thrusted it back across, using wandless magic causing the door to be violently swung open - so much so that it was torn off of its hinges with utter ease.

Caught off guard was an old man of average features, save for the fact that the old man put more emphasis on one leg than he did the other. No doubt this habit originated from a great event, perhaps even from a fight or a war.

He paid his perception of the man no mind as Riddle said, "Invite him inside, Wormtail. Where are your manners?"

Wormtail beckoned the old man into the room, his attention fixated on the armchair, the back of it facing him. The old man, though not entirely together, took a firmer grasp of the walking stick and limped his way into the room.

"You heard everything, Muggle?" said Riddle.

"What's that you're calling me?" said Frank in a surprisingly defiant voice. No doubt, the Dark Prince thought, this man was involved in some war. Only hardened, battle fighting men could muster such bravery in the face of such bleak odds.

"He called you a muggle," said The Dark Prince in an even tone. "It means that you are not a wizard."

"I don't know what you mean by wizard," said the old man, his voice growing steadier by the second. "All I know is I've heard enough to interest the police tonight, I have. You -" the old man pointed to the armchair, "-You've done murder and you're planning more! And I'll tell you this too: my wife knows I'm up here, and if I don't come back -"

"You have no wife," said the cold voice, very quietly. "Nobody knows you are here. You told nobody that you were coming. Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Muggle, for he knows...he always knows..."

"Is that right?" said the old man in a rough tone. "Lord, is it? Well, I don't think much of your manners, _My Lord_. Turn 'round and face me like a man, why don't you?"

The Dark Prince, tolerate as he was of the old man's behavior, grew weary of his misplaced attitude. He made a reach for his wand when he saw the feeble right hand of Riddles' raise, to stop him.

The Dark Prince halted his action and stood in place as Riddle stated in a little more than a whisper, "But I am not a man, Muggle. I am much, much more than a man. However...why not? I will face you...Wormtail, come turn my chair around."

A whimper echoed throughout the room, to which the Dark Prince gave Wormtail his deathstare and growled, "You heard him, Wormtail."

Slowly, with his screwed up face, as though he would rather be anywhere but where he was at, Wormtail moved to the chair, beginning to turn the chair, only hesitating when Nagini hissed at its legs when it got caught on the rug it was on.

Finally, Riddle was facing the old man, who was so shocked by the sight that he dropped his walking stick. He then screamed - a scream so loudly that the poor fool never heard the words Riddle spoke as he raised his wand.

But The Dark Prince did.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A flash of green burst forth from the wand, rushing forth, toward the old man. The green light collided with the old man, who went to the floor, crumpled. The old man was dead before he even hit the ground, no longer a nuisance to him.

"I just remembered," said Riddle, unfazed by his act of murder. "How goes your own plans, My Prince?"

"Very smoothly," said the Dark Prince, also unfazed by the dead body lurking in their midst. "But, perhaps it is too early to make such remarks. Many things have yet to fall in place before I can be satisfied."

"Do not forget," said Riddle, "What you must do."

"Of course, My Lord," said the Dark Prince, who made his way out of the room, wondering what was taking place elsewhere...

 **And this concludes the first chapter of the new installment, HP: The Path of Trials! More updates will take place in the future, all depending on when I'm available to work on the remaining chapters and when I can post the updates. Feel free to leave a review to let me know about what you think of the installment. Also, if you have any questions you want to ask me, feel free to leave me a PM and I will answer them to the best of my abilities. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	2. (02) The Diggory's

**Welcome, one and all, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Not much to explain here except...**

 **Disclaimer: Absolutely NO ownership of HP, which saddens me a little. I do own all OC's that appear in this series, so that's a plus...I suppose.**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter 2: The Diggory's

 **Enjoy!**

A young man with white hair sat up quickly in his bed, panting heavily, the images he'd just seen still playing in his mind.

 _"Just what are Riddle and The Dark Prince up to?"_ thought the white-haired young man. _"Surely, they couldn't be thinking of doing anything at the Quidditch World Cup, right? No, they couldn't possibly. Yeah, nothing to worry about."_

Now, normally, such phrases as "Quidditch" would seem quite odd to the average person. Although, nothing is considered normal or average when one is considered a witch or wizard in the Wizarding World.

Such is the case with the white-haired young man named Marcus Williams, a young wizard with unusually great merit among other witches and wizards, accredited to stopping The Dark Prince nearly a decade ago. To this, the young man had much doubt as to how he had any hand in the matter, but he hardly paid it any mind these days.

In fact, the only thing he wanted to do was to get a little more sleep before he began his morning workout.

However, when he went back to sleep, he found himself in a great state of confusion.

He found himself standing on open streets, unusual music echoing around him. Many muggles with odd clothes bustling about, getting errands done or merely conversing with one another. Each building was well designed, as if they were transformed from an artist's canvas. However, the most prominent building in all of his surroundings was a tower. A tower with four great metallic pillars that curved upward and inwards until they met at a single point, high above the other buildings.

"'Ello, Mar-kees! Don't jus' stand around! Let's play!"

He turned to the source of the voice, a voice that was very accent-heavy, and found a little girl. A little girl with waist-long silver hair that seemed to shine in the afternoon sun, dark blue eyes that looked like ocean water, and a smile that seemed to emanate their own light. Something about this little girl was very familiar, but what it was, he couldn't quite put his finger on it...

"Okay! Let's play!"

He started to run toward the little girl, shocked by two things: The sound of his own voice and how familiar he seemed to be with this girl. His voice in this setting was quite unlike the voice he knew, full of joy and wonder, like nothing could get him down. Not to mention that he never recalled seeing this girl before in his entire life, much less being open to spending time with her.

But, sure enough, he did spend time with this girl. Playing tag, card games, and all sorts of other games he had no idea he knew.

Eventually, the two children sat on a nearby park bench and, looking all around them, the little girl saying, "Mar-kees, 'ow much longer will you be here?"

"Not sure," he replied in a higher voice than he was familiar with, "Until Mommy and Daddy are done, I think."

"And when they're done, will you leave?"

He found himself quite sad as he said, "Probably."

"But you can't leave, Mar-kees!" the little girl cried. "We're having zo much fun!"

"I don't want to leave either," he told her. "But Daddy said we'll be going back home as soon as he's done, so there's nothing I can do."

The little girl then rearranged herself on the bench so that he was facing him and said, "Then, Mar-kees, let us make a promise togezer!"

"A promise?" he asked.

"Oui," said the girl. "A promise. When we are older, let us meet again and spend as much time together as possible."

He felt a smile creeping on his face and, just as he was about to respond, he felt great shaking with a familiar, hoarse voice saying, "Master, Master."

Suddenly, he found himself looking at the ceiling of his own bedroom and, standing on the side of his bed was -

"Blinky," Marcus said. "What time is it?"

"It's six in the morning, Master," said Blinky, his house-elf.

"Well, that's what I get for sleeping in," Marcus mumbled before turning to Blinky and saying, "Thank you, Blinky. Please inform me when my parents arrive home. I'll be in the backyard, training."

As Blinky disappeared and he was getting dressed into his workout clothes, he found himself reflecting on the most recent dream he had: The dream with the silver-haired girl.

He knew for sure that he hadn't met anyone like that that he could remember. It was possible that it could've been someone from before he turned five, as he had no recollection of any memory before then, but it was highly unlikely. A person with such features would definitely be someone that he couldn't forget.

As he stepped outside, he couldn't help but smirking as he familiarized himself with the settings of his training. The morning dew caressing his shoes, the slowly warming air breezing on by, the few twinkling stars lit on the nightly canvas. There was something about bettering himself under these conditions that seem to resonate well with him, like he could go about his tasks without any worry, as if everything was fine.

And, with this mindset, he began his training. As he was underage, he could not perform magic, but there was nothing to stop him from fine tuning his own physicality.

Finally, after he returned from jogging through the countryside, he saw that Blinky was waiting for him just outside the backyard door.

"Blinky, have they returned?"

"Yes, Master. They have been waiting patiently for you."

"Thank you, Blinky."

He stepped inside and made his way into the living room to find his father, Michael Williams, eating a light breakfast while his mother, Brynn Williams, was persuing through the _Daily Prophet_ , the wizarding newspaper delivered to every wizarding family's homes and jobs.

"I had a feeling you were doing your morning workout," said his father. "How was it?"

"Better," Marcus replied. "Although, I'm trying to put on more muscle, but I don't think it's working all that well. It's strange, my diet plan and workouts haven't changed..."

Michael, unbeknownst to Marcus, shot a quick look to Brynn, to which she replied, "Well, son, you're getting at that age where your body goes through all sorts of changes."

Marcus cupped his chin with his left hand as he said, "I guess you're right. I have already grown half a feet taller, putting me around five feet five inches exactly."

He then put on a smirk as he said, "Give me another few years and I just might be taller than you, Dad."

Michael gave a sort of unapproving cough and said, "Well, all growth spurts aside, did you get anymore sleep than usual?"

"Well, not really," Marcus replied. "I had this really strange dream."

"You mean a Dark Prince nightmare?"

"Not that." Marcus then put on a quizzical look as he stated, "It was in this rather strange town with a curving tower."

Brynn, who was preoccupied with the _Daily Prophet_ , suddenly shot a glance at her son and said, "A curving tower?"

"Yeah," said Marcus.

"Could you possibly be referring to the Eiffel Tower?!"

"Yeah, that's -" Marcus started to say, but then realized what he did. "-oh, no..."

"Oh, you must've been dreaming about being in Paris!" his mother squealed in delight, putting down the newspaper and twirling around the living room. Marcus looked to his father, who gave him a "I-can't-believe-you-did-this-to-us" stare. There was an unspoken rule between Marcus and his father in the Williams Residence: Do not, in any way, shape, or form, bring up France or anything to do with France around Brynn. Doing so resulted in his mother going off on a very long, tortured rant about said country, which could very well go on for half a day.

"Oh, do you remember the first time we went to France, my darling?" Brynn asked Michael.

"Yes, dear, I do," Michael replied in such a deadpanned voice that it was quite obvious he was asked this question all too often.

"Oh, it was our first time helping out the French Ministry of Magic," she went on, not noticing her husband's behavior. "They were in such a bind that they asked our Minister for our assistance. Shortly after we arrived, we were given a grand tour of Paris, and it spoke to me in a way that resonated with my heart. It was so very hard to believe that the _fonce magiciens_ could be in such a city -"

"Yes, the Dark Magic group, I recall," said Marcus. Like his father, he heard the tale so often, he was surprised he didn't know it by heart.

"Well, it was a lucky thing you never encountered them, son," she stated. "I mean, you were only four at the time -"

At this point, Marcus found himself incredibly surprised. For one thing, Marcus never heard his mother mention him being in France before the age of five.

"Wait, what?"

"Yes, you were very young, Marcus," his mother told him. "Of course, we had no choice but to take you with us. Anyone that could've babysat you was quite busy."

"Then, who watched over me in Paris when I was only four? Surely, not the two of you?"

"Oh, of course not," said his mother, who then stopped to think about it and stated, "Huh, I don't recall. Anyway, I made sure to talk to anyone I could -"

Marcus, who didn't want to be listening anything more about France, said quite abruptly, "How goes the search?"

Knowing exactly what Marcus was referring to, the previous look of joy on his mother's face gave way to disappointment as she replied, "There hasn't been a trace of the Dark Prince since his breakout from Azkaban."

 _"Didn't think there'd be any_ ," thought Marcus.

Since the age of five, Marcus had been training and learning diligently for one purpose: Confronting, beating, and kill if possible, The Dark Prince, the man responsible for traumatizing his childhood and marking his torso with his mark of murder, a crown with an X in the middle. He was greatly affected by what people referred to as "The Great Breakout", as it meant that The Dark Prince was, once again, free in the world. To Marcus, it only meant that it was only a matter of time before he would meet him once again.

"Well, he's not going to be found by us standing around, Brynn," said Michael. "We have to get going."

"Wait, don't you go guys have enough to be worrying about, with the World Cup security?" Marcus asked.

"Shacklebolt is the one setting up the World Cup security," his father clarified, "due to our hands being full with another project along with searching for the Dark Prince."

"Another project?" Marcus asked, his interests piqued. "What project? Tell me!"

"Yeah, no," his mother said to him. "Now, take a shower and get dressed. You're coming with us."

"Huh? How come?"

"We're having you stay with a certain family until the World Cup is over."

"Oh, is it the Weasleys?!"

"No. The Diggory's," his father stated.

Confusion set over Marcus as he looked at his father and said, "What?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are currently busy making sure that their eldest sons, Bill and Charlie, can visit and stay with them for the World Cup. As Gringotts is notoriously stingy on allowing their employees time off, and Romania's International Committee is horrendous with protocol, it's going to take them some time to do so. And while that's going on, Mr. and Mrs. Diggory are...well, 'eager'...to watch over you for however long the Weasley's can't."

"Oh, swell," Marcus deadpanned.

"Don't they have a son, Michael?" Brynn asked.

"Yes, actually," Michael replied. "His name is Cedric, isn't it, Marcus?"

"Yes," Marcus said flatly.

Marcus was not a fan of Cedric Diggory, to say the least. Not only was Cedric regarded as one of the most handsome boys in Hogwarts, as many girls thought him to be, but he was supposably one of Hufflepuff's smartest and most capable students. Marcus thought Cedric to be incredibly lacking, his presence not noticeable, and his reputation undeserving. This view on Cedric only deepend when the pretty boy was responsible for giving Gryffindor their only loss in an otherwise flawless Quidditch season.

Michael noticed his son's sudden change in attitude and said, "I hope there won't be any problems when you're staying with them, Marcus."

"Oh, there shouldn't be," said Marcus. _"Just as long as they don't bother me too much,"_ he thought to himself.

"Good," said Michael. "Now, go take a shower and get your stuff around. You won't be back here until after the World Cup."

So, Marcus did what he was told and took a shower and got around. However, when he knew that his parents were waiting outside for him, he snuck into his father's study and looked around until he found what he was looking for: A book his father created called _Everything you need to know about Duplication_. He decided that, at the end of the past school year, he would make mastering his father's revered Duplication Spell his next major project, for it would surely help him immensly in his future duels.

Once he managed to cart all of his stuff outside, his parents each grabbed a portion of his belongings and Michael said, "All right, then. Both of you, my sleeves."

Once he grabbed on his right sleeves, he had to endure what felt like being shoved into a small, cyndrilical tube and, upon coming out the other side feeling quite surprised.

Aside from the house being rather smaller than his family's, he would've hardly noticed the difference, at least from the front side of the house. He was willing to bet that the inside, as well as the backyard, would tell an entirely different story.

"So, remind me again why you chose the Diggory's," said Marcus.

His father gave a sort of disapproving noise before replying, "Aside from their gracious invitation, they live near Ottery St. Catchpole, which should no doubt sound familiar."

Marcus's eyes grew wide as he said, "The Weasley's live nearby!"

"Correct," said Michael. "This'll make the burden on Mr. and Mrs. Weasley a little more bearable."

"Hey, I'm not a burden!"

Michael cleared his throat as the three Williams approached the Diggory's front door and knocked three times on the door.

It took a couple of seconds, but eventually they were greeted by Mr. Diggory, a tall man with a scrubby brown beard on a rather ruddy face with oval shaped glasses accencuating his eyes.

"Ah, Michael, good to see you!" he said rather excitedly as he extended his right hand out to Michael.

"And the same to you, Amos," said Michael with what Marcus noticed to be a forced smile.

"And Brynn, looking just as youthful as the last time I saw you!"

"You're too kind, Amos."

Mr. Diggory then looked at Marcus and exclaimed, "Great Scott! Marcus Williams, it is an honor to finally meet you! Cedric has said some great things about you!"

"Thank you, sir," said Marcus, taking a leaf from his father's book and forcing a smirk on his face.

"Speaking of which," Mr. Diggory said as he turned to the inside of his house and half-shouted, "Cedric! Marcus is here!"

As he could hear the footsteps coming towards the door, Marcus felt a little uneasy, which only grew stronger when Cedric stood next to his father.

"Ah, Marcus, it's good to see you again," said Cedric with a rather pleasant smile.

"Likewise, Cedric," said Marcus, though he did not share the same sentiment.

"Well, Amos, shall the three of us get going to the Ministry?" asked Michael. "After all, there's so much to be done."

"Too right you are, Michael!" cried Amos. "Cedric, can you help Marcus with his belongings?"

"Certainly, father," said Cedric.

As he was grabbing some of Marcus's possessions, Michael turned to his son and said, "Behave while you're here, son."

"I will, father," said Marcus.

Once his parent's and Cedric's father Disapparated, Marcus thought to himself, _"This is going to be a rough two weeks, I just know it."_

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Feel free to leave a review, as this will help me refine future content. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to send me a PM and I promise I will answer them to the best of my abilities. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	3. (03) Newfound Respect

**Welcome, esteemed readers, to the next chapter of HP: Path of Trials! Well, there always seems to be one chapter in which I always end up having to go back and finish because I found myself being stumped when I was originally working on it. For this book (so far), that was this chapter. But, as you can see, it is complete and ready to be read! But, before that...**

 **Disclaimer: No ownership, you all know the drill...**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter 3: Newfound Respect

 **Enjoy, one and all!**

Just as Marcus surmised, much of the inside of the house was full of wizarding objects, such as a cauldron, ingredients for most known potions, and lots of other objects, some of which seemed like they had a mind of their own, an all too common practice in most wizarding homes. In fact, he went as far as to surmise that the Diggory's and his own house shared a striking amount of similarities.

But, then there was Cedric Diggory.

Marcus could see Cedric doing his best to be a good host, but there was just too much animosity on Marcus's end to be comfortable with the idea. He wanted nothing more than to just get the two weeks over with.

The first day at the Diggory's was awkward, to say the least. Marcus still had to get some of his summer schoolwork done, and he knew that Cedric felt that he shouldn't bother him, so he decided to tend to the garden they had going alongside the back of their house while Marcus focused on his homework.

After he completed his homework, Marcus then decided to do his physical training, which today included practicing his swordmanship.

He was only halfway finished with his upper body workouts when he saw Cedric coming out into the front yard.

"Yes?" Marcus asked as he was doing push-ups.

"Um, my father wanted me to let you know that dinner's almost ready," said Cedric, who looked pretty awkward. "I suppose you'll be joining us after you're finished and showered up?"

"I'm only about halfway finished," he told Cedric in a rather stiff tone. "If it's all right with you, you guys can go ahead without me."

"Ah," said Cedric, who sounded a bit worried. "I'll let my father know."

As he stepped inside the house, Marcus thought that something must've been on Cedric's mind, but he immediately push that thought into the furthest part of his mind and concentrated on his physical training.

Eventually, he finished the last of his exercises. Grabbing his practice sword and a towel, he made his way to the door when he overheard Cedric saying, "I just don't understand, Father. Does he not like me?"

Marcus froze, knowing that he was talking about him.

"Cedric, I really don't think that's it," he heard Mr. Diggory saying. "He just doesn't know you well enough. Mr. Williams told me that it may take a bit of time to open up to people he's not familiar with, and knowing what happened to him when he was younger - well, it hardly seems out of the ordinary to act that way, am I right?"

"Of course, Father," said Cedric. "I just - I wish there was something I could do to make him feel - I don't know...right at home, I suppose..."

Marcus felt a slight twinge of guilt for a brief second, but then steeled himself, opened the door, and walked through.

"Ah, Marcus," Mr. Diggory said, catching himself. "Was your training productive today?"

"Time will tell, I suppose," said Marcus stiffly, who draped his towel in a way that did not show his torso and his horrendous crown scar. "I'll be taking a shower before I join the table, if that's okay."

"Not at all," said Mr. Diggory. "We'll be waiting."

Marcus took a glance at Cedric, who wasn't meeting his gaze. He didn't pay it any mind as he head upstairs and took his shower.

Dinner that night was stiff. Mr. Diggory kept trying to make small talk with Marcus, hoping to perhaps bring up something that would make the white haired boy more comfortable, but Marcus kept the conversations short and precise. Shortly after dinner was finished, he excused himself to the guest room, where he finished off his Transfiguration essay before going to bed.

His second day at the Diggory's would prove to be just as awkward as the first. Marcus started his morning workout early as usual, around 4 in the morning. Try as he might not to make too much noise, he still found Cedric walking in on his training session.

"Can I ask you something, Marcus?"

"Sure," he replied to Cedric while he was doing squats.

"Why is it that you do physical training? It would seem rather redundant when we can use magic, after all."

Marcus finished off the last of his exercise before looking to Cedric and stating, rather harshly, "It may not seem important to someone who takes magic for granted, but for someone who may find themselves in a position where magic isn't going to save them, their physical condition is what'll separate life from death."

"Oh," said Cedric, looking sorry that he asked in the first place. "I'll just...um...be inside."

Cedric went back into the house very quickly and Marcus heavily sighed. He had no right to talk to Cedric the way he did and he knew it. Upon further reflection, the only things he knew about Cedric was what his friends said about him, which were not very nice or friendly. He also knew that, even if he didn't care what other people thought about him, that didn't mean that everyone else thought along the same lines.

Throughout the rest of the day, Marcus couldn't bear to make eye contact with Cedric and vice-versa. He felt too ashamed of his actions and, though he wanted to apologize, he had no idea how to go about it. He wasn't very good about that sort of thing.

It wasn't until that night, while he was working on his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework where things started to turn around.

Having his textbook opened to the Shield Charm page for extra credit, Marcus felt a little stumped.

 _"Explain the theory of the Shield Charm and what applications it yields."_

 _"Now what in the world could they possibly mean by this?"_ Marcus thought as he kept rereading the section on Shield Charms. He got to reading it again for the third time when he heard the knock on the door.

He saw Cedric opening the door and looking as if he was going to say something else when he saw Marcus' schoolwork strewn across the bed.

"Say, what are you working on?" Cedric asked.

"Just extra credit for my Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Marcus. "I can't make heads or tails of it, though. I just rereading the text over and over again, and it's not making any sense."

"Would you like me to look at it, see if I can help you?" said Cedric.

Normally, Marcus would've let his pride get in the way and refused his help. However, due to his guilt building up and the fact that he really wanted to do well on this extra credit assignment, he mentally sighed and said, "Sure. I could really use the help."

Marcus made room for him to sit on the bed as Cedric took his place and started to read over the material, nodding his head every so often.

Finally, he said, "Well, it's no wonder you're not to make headway with this. This spell isn't even taught until sixth year. Who gave you this for extra credit?"

"My Uncle Remus, the last professor," said Marcus. "Shortly before the end of the year, he gave this for me to do, because he knows I like a good challenge."

"Oh, he's amazing!" Cedric said with great enthusiam. "He taught my class a lot of great stuff, including this spell. Let's see here..."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand, then proceeded to stand up, pointed his wand forward, and spoke.

"The Shield Charm is designed to weaken or prevent spells from taking any effect on the caster or the designated target," he stated. "Now, as the Shield Charm is a defensive spell, hence the name, it is very much ideal for the caster to be instinctually defensive, as well."

He then said in a very commanding voice, _"Protego!"_

Marcus looked closely, but didn't notice anything.

"I - I don't get it," he said, very much confused.

"The Shield Charm is not a spell that'll visually manifest, at least not usually" he told him. "Another reason why the spell's hard to master. Most magic folk rely on sight for a spell's success. This spell relies on a person's faith, self-trust, and mental strength for results. In other words, the stronger your belief and will to block a spell, the better the spell will work.

"Now, the applications behind this spell is straightforward, but the strength can vary, depending on the situation. There's a Shield Charm designed to block Dark Magic spells, one that does the bare minimum and can act as a sort of reflector, and there's even one that's strong enough to take on a physical manifestation of a barrier, but that one requires a great deal of mental strength and willpower to cast."

Marcus was furiously writing all of this down, blown away by Cedric's apparent knowledge on the subject.

"Wow, this really helped me out," said Marcus when he finished. "Thanks for the info, Cedric!"

Cedric smiled and said, "Well, it's the least I could do. I suppose it's time for me to go to bed."

He took two steps towards the door when Marcus said, "Wait a moment, Cedric."

Cedric looked back at him and Marcus then said, "I'm - I'm sorry for the way I've been acting. It's just that - well, not a lot of my friends in Gryffindor think highly of you and I was foolish to think like them without giving you a chance. Again, I'm - I'm sorry."

"Oh, that's all right," said Cedric, who looked a bit relieved. "Truthfully, I'm all too aware that other people don't think too greatly about me. I suppose that's my fault. I act a certain way so that I don't draw too much attention to myself. Well, looks like that doesn't really work all that well."

Marcus was floored to hear this.

"Well, I don't like to draw too much attention to myself, either," said Marcus. "That's why I'm always training in secret and mostly keep to myself."

"Say, Marcus, do you mind if I join you in your workout tomorrow morning?" asked Cedric. "I would like to give it a try."

Marcus couldn't help but smirk as he replied, "Yeah, I think that'd be good."

"Great," said Cedric. "Well, good night."

As Cedric left the room and Marcus put away his finished extra credit assignment, he layed on the bed and wondered just where his new friendship with Cedric was going to take him...

* * *

Around 4:30 the next morning, Marcus got up and went to the back yard to conduct his physical training and, just when he was about to get started on his stretching, he saw Cedric walking out into the backyard.

"Morning, Cedric," said Marcus.

Cedric stifled a yawn before saying, "Morning, Marcus. So, what is it that we'll be doing?"

"For the first hour, you'll be repeating the same workouts that I do," said Marcus, who was currently stretching his arms. "They won't be anything too crazy, but you should find it a challenge. Afterwards, we'll be doing practical combat practice."

"All right," said Cedric. "Let's do it."

Marcus made sure to keep an eye on Cedric for the hour they spent doing the workout, but he found himself relatively surprised. Being Hufflepuff's star seeker, he knew that Cedric must've had some athletic ability, but Cedric only struggled a little bit with the workouts.

After the hour expired, he said to Cedric, "All right, time for practical combat training."

"What will we be doing?"

"You'll be casting combative spells at me," stated Marcus. "While you're doing that, I'll be trying to get closer to you however I can. If I get within striking distance, we start from the top. Are we ready?"

"Wait a second," said Cedric as he got his wand out.

Not wanting to miss anything, Marcus enhanced his vision and was astounded.

Without saying anything, waves of magic was encompassing the area, eventually forming into what he knew for sure was a multi-layered barrier.

"There," said Cedric. "I've made it so no one can hear or see us. We can train to our heart's content."

"Awesome!" said Marcus, who then thought, _"I've got to be careful. If he can do all of that flawlessly, then he must possess great magical abilities."_

"Let's go!" said Marcus.

Cedric started to relentlessly casting spells at him, most of which Marcus recognized.

 _"Stunning Spell, Time Slow Jinx, Tickling Charm,"_ rattled Marcus in his mind as he was dodging them by a hair's breath.

Suddenly, Cedric cast what Marcus recognized to be the Knockback Spell.

Instinctively, he raised his right armguard and reduced the effect of the spell by half before deciding to go on the offensive.

He ran to Cedric, who was sticking to casting the Stunning Spell. It took everything he had, but he was able to dodge flawlessly and put a right fist just short of his face.

"How - How did you do that?!" said Cedric, clearly shocked.

"This is what it means to be physically fit," said Marcus, slightly panting. "It allowed me to put you in a bind because of one of magic's few flaws: Magic cannot be effective if it does not hit the target. Now, shall we go again?"

As Marcus lowered his fist, Cedric took on a look of fierce determination as he said, "Of course. I won't be outdone."

"Then let's go again," said Marcus with a smirk.

Eventually, Mr. Diggory came out into the yard and said, "Boys, it's time for breakfast."

"Wait, how long have we been at this?" asked Cedric.

"If I recall, an hour and a half," said Marcus, greatly smirking.

"I think we haven't made enough progress this time around," said Cedric with a smile of his own. "Shall we continue this during tonight's training session?"

"Absolutely," said Marcus.

"Well, as delighted as I am with this development, you boys are filthy and need to take a shower," said Mr. Diggory with a smirk of his own. "Clean up and breakfast will be ready when you two are done."

Mr. Diggory watched the two of them go back into the house before he entered it himself and was about to make his way to the kitchen when he saw green flames erupt from his living room's fireplace.

"Amos," he heard a voice call out.

As soon as he saw Michael Williams' head poke through the flames, he said, "Ah, good morning, Michael. Made any progress with your search?"

"We have a lead that the Dark Prince has been sited in New York City over in the U.S.," stated Michael. "Brynn and I will be following that lead for a while, so I wanted to check in to see how Marcus is doing before we head out."

"Well, not to worry, Michael," said Mr. Diggory in a reassuring manner. "I'm not going to lie, Marcus had some trouble adjusting, but all is well. He even has Cedric partaking in his training session just this morning. Does the boy really put that upon himself?"

"Yes, for better or worse," said Michael, looking troubled. "Considering what his future holds, I can only try to support him. Anything else would just hold him back."

"Well, it's doing more than all right by Cedric, so no complaints here," said Amos.

"Regardless, I'm glad to see that Marcus is doing well," said Michael. "In that case, I'll take my leave. See you later, Amos."

"See you later, Michael," said Mr. Diggory as Michael's head disappeared and the green flames dissipated.

* * *

As Marcus was showering himself, he was really glad that he got to work past his prejudice of Cedric and gotten to know him, even if it was only a little bit. He thought to himself that, just maybe, there could be something there he wouldn't believe to be possible...

* * *

The Dark Prince was perusing through his diet plan, ensuring that he didn't miss anything important. He was relieved to find that the kitchen was usable enough for what he needed and, even if that were not to be the case later on, he knew places in which to prepare his meals...

He saw that Wormtail was making his way back into the decrepit mansion with all of his groceries, groceries in which were obtained by using the Imperius Curse on a Muggle and dropped on the front door.

"Make sure to be careful putting the food away, scum," said the Dark Prince. "I would hate to have to make an unnecessary appearance amongst people because of your clumsiness."

"The Dark Lord will _not_ be pleased that I am being pulled from his duties, my Prince," said Wormtail as he was putting away the food.

"Do not act as if you have any _real_ importance, peon," the Dark Prince responded angrily.

"I am faithful to The Dark Lord alone, you -"

Wormtail then made the foolish mistake of blinking.

When he stopped blinking, he found the Dark Prince standing behind him, wand up against his throat and a dark presence that Wormtail had only just realized was there. He found himself trembling in fear of this new presence, but that was nothing compared to when he spoke.

"You listen here, _peon_ ," said the Dark Prince in a quiet, but terrifying tone of voice. "The only reason you're here is because no one else is available. If it was up to me, you'd have long been dead and don't think that the sorry form of a dark wizard wheezing away in the chair upstairs will save you from me. Now, you do exactly what I say, when I say, and how I say if you wish to keep your life, understood?"

Wormtail could do nothing except for nodding his head in understanding.

The Dark Prince then put his wand away and proceeded to make his way to the kitchen, though Wormtail still kept himself frozen in place. Up to this point, he had only heard stories of the Dark Prince's capabilites, but when he sensed that presence standing behind him, threatening every fiber of his being, even his feeble mind knew that the Dark Prince was capable of much more than the stories from the First Wizarding War would lead people to believe.

"Now, go to the Dark Lord, scum," he told Wormtail. "He needs to be cared for, after all."

Wormtail took off up the stairs as fast as he could, not wanting to be around the Dark Prince anymore than he had to.

The Dark Prince then sat at the dining room table, looking at _The Daily Prophet_ and its main article about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup.

"The first step in a long path to success," he muttered to himself. "There's work that needs to be done."

He then put down the newspaper and left the mansion...

 **And that concludes this chapter of HP: Path of Trials! Feel free to leave a review, as this always helps me be a better writer. Also, if you have any questions you may like to ask me, leave me a PM and I promise I will answer your questions to the best of my abilities. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: Path of Trials!**


	4. (04) To The Weasley's

**Welcome, everyone, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Let's just jump right into it!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing of HP save for OCs.**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter 4: To the Weasley's

 **Enjoy, one and all!**

Before Marcus knew it, the time had flown by. The remaining time he spent at the Diggory's was as if put on fast-foward. Any animosity he felt towards Cedric was long gone, replaced by respect and admiration he knew he would've never felt for him had he not put his feelings aside and got to know Cedric for who he was.

And as he spent his final training session at the Diggory's with Cedric, Cedric really put him through the paces with some pinpoint accurate spell casting, making Marcus work harder than ever just to dodge them.

"And that's it," said Cedric, who was keeping track of the time, "That concludes your workout, Marcus."

"Phew," said Marcus, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "I've got to admit, Cedric, you really had me on the ropes multiple times."

"I was thinking the same thing, actually," said Cedric with a smirk. "I didn't think being in physical shape was that important for wizards, but now I definitely see just how important it is."

As the two of them entered the house from the backyard, Mr. Diggory said from the kitchen, "Marcus, my boy! Do you have all your things packed?"

"Yes, Mr. Diggory," said Marcus. "I managed to do it all last night."

"A shame you have to leave so soon," said Mr. Diggory. "I wouldn't have minded having you the whole summer. Not too many people can challenge my boy, Cedric, the way you have."

"Father, stop it," Cedric said, looking embarrassed.

"I wholeheartedly agree, sir," said Marcus. "Cedric's going to do some amazing things when he gets out of Hogwarts."

Marcus looked to Cedric, who looked a bit sheepish, and said, "Speaking of which, what are you going to do when you're done with Hogwarts?"

"Well, actually, I want to become an Auror," said Cedric.

"An Auror?" asked Marcus.

"Well, I know it's a little embarrassing, but your father is a really big inspiration for me," explained Cedric. "His knowledge and the way he takes care of business is something I want to be able to tell about myself one day. Plus, I want to make the world a better place. So, I figured the best way to do that is to hunt down Dark Wizards and put them away."

"I definitely understand," said Marcus with a smirk. "That's what I plan on doing after I'm done with Hogwarts. Honestly, I can't think of anything better suited for me. Perhaps we'll be taking down Dark Wizards together."

"Sounds like a plan to me," said Cedric with a smile.

In that moment, the doorbell rang. The three of them went to the front door and opened it to find -

"Arthur! Molly!" Mr. Diggory cried, shaking Mrs. Weasley's hand and hugging Mr. Weasley. "How are you?"

"Living another day, Amos, can't complain about that!" Mr. Weasley replied. He then saw Marcus and said, "There you are, Marcus! Doing all right?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Weasley," said Marcus with a smirk.

"A shame he's going with you, Arthur," said Mr. Diggory. "But, a deal's a deal."

"Marcus, dear, do you have your stuff all ready?" Mrs. Weasley asked with a smile.

"It's right here," said Marcus as he grabbed his two suitcases. Marcus was fully intending on going back to his house to get the remainder of his belongings after the Quidditch World Cup. It was too much to get all of them, with the Burrow no doubt being as full as it is.

"Well, we'll be seeing you real soon, Arthur," Mr. Diggory told Mr. Weasley. "You haven't forgotten our meeting place, I assume?"

"Of course not, Amos," said Mr. Weasley. "We'll be there, bright and early, I assure you."

"See you real soon, Cedric, Mr. Diggory!" said Marcus.

And with that, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, and Marcus started walking down the road.

As they were walking, Mr. Weasley said to Marcus, "So, Marcus, did you enjoy your stay at the Diggory's?"

"To be honest, Mr. Weasley, I enjoyed it immensly, though it was rough at first," Marcus replied. "It went by way too fast."

"I told your father we would've been more than happy to have you from the beginning," said Mrs. Weasley. "But, he didn't want to make it too big of a burden on us. At least, that's what I think it was."

"Actually, I don't think that was it," Marcus stated.

"Oh?" said Mr. Weasley.

"I think Dad was trying to teach me the importance of knowing a broader group of people," said Marcus. "Not sticking so close to a select group of people. I would've never known just how talented and amazing Cedric was if I had never stayed there."

Just then, Mr. Weasley said, "All right, I think this should be far enough. Molly, Marcus, my sleeves."

 _"Oh, crap,"_ Marcus thought. _"Side-along Apparation."_

Sure enough, Marcus felt like he was being stuffed in a tube, hardly being able to breathe, but it was over just as soon as it began: He found himself on the outskirts of the Burrow and it was a sight to behold.

From the beautiful countryside scenery to the winding house held together like magic, there were hardly any changes to the place, and it was just the way Marcus liked it.

"Only a short, brisk walk and we'll be home again," said Mr. Weasley.

He then brought out his wand, gave Marcus's luggage a tap, and the luggage started to hover and move with them.

"Of course, Ron's been most anxious to have you over," said Mrs. Weasley. "Fred and George could use a distraction, for goodness sake. Oh, and we were able to get our two oldest boys, as well."

"Bill and Charlie are here?" Marcus asked in earnest.

"About time, too," said Mr. Weasley. "Romania's Department of International Cooperation is anything but cooperating. Still, Charlie's here, and that's what matters. Bill was a bit easier. He simply took some time off from Gringotts to watch the World Cup."

"I didn't think goblins were that compromising on their employees," said Marcus.

"They're only a tad worse than humans in that regard," admitted Mr. Weasley.

Just as the three of them crossed the fence line of the Burrow, Marcus saw Ron poking his head out of the doorway before crossing the threshold and running out to meet him.

"About time you got here, Marcus!" Ron said to him after meeting him. "I thought the Diggory's would keep you all summer!"

"Well, they certainly wanted to," Marcus said. "Though, I don't think I would have minded."

"Have you already gone mad?" Ron asked him.

"Nah. It's a bit complicated to explain."

He then took his luggage and continued, "Regardless, I'm here now, all psyched for the World Cup!"

Marcus and Ron then proceeded to go into the Burrow as Ron said, "Yeah, this should be one to remember! Mind, the semifinal match U.S. had against Irish International was stellar, but that'll be nothing compared to the Finals!"

"Well, I still think the U.S. All-Stars will pull out the win against Bulgaria."

"You have gone mad! Bulgaria has the world's best Seeker, Viktor Krum!"

"Viktor Krum's one decent player. The All-Stars have seven."

"Even if that's true, the All-Stars have to overcome 150 points. How do you suppose that's going to happen?"

"Yeah, that is going to be pretty interesting," Marcus said out loud, stroking his chin in thought.

Finally, Marcus and Ron made it up to Ron's room. As Marcus dropped off his luggage, Marcus asked, "Is it me, or does it seem a little less spacey?"

"Fred and George are staying in here while Bill and Charlie are staying," Ron explained. "It'll get interesting when we get Harry tomorrow."

"Yeah, five people staying in the attic, two of which are troublemakers," stated Marcus. "Yeah, you're right, it's going to get interesting."

Seeing as it was around dinnertime, Ron and Marcus made their way back down to the kitchen where Marcus saw two people he had never seen before.

As the two of them were standing in the kitchen, he got a good look at them both. One of them was shorter, but stockier, built like Fred and George were. He noticed that the shorter one's arms were quite built, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it, along with calluses and blisters under his fingers. Despite his physical intimidation, the shorter one had a broad, good-natured face, one so weathered and freckly that one would think the man to be quite tan. Marcus knew at first glance this one had to be Charlie Weasley, who studied and worked with dragons in Romania.

The other one was quite tall, much akin to Percy and Ron. His long hair was put up in a ponytail, he wore an earing that had what looked eerily like a fang dangling, and the clothes he sported would place him quite well at a muggle rock concert. The only difference was that his boots were not of leather, but of dragon hide. Marcus pictured what Bill would possibly be like, but seeing him in the flesh, Bill gave off a sort of vibe that made him, undeniably, cool. No doubt he was, Marcus thought. Being a curse-breaker was a very selective and highly qualified job in the Wizarding World, being so few in number that even Marcus hadn't met any. On top of that, working for Gringotts as one meant that a curse-breaker's skill sets had to be above the rest, as treasure hoards were the most complex and curse ridden locations in the entire world.

"Ah, you must be Marcus," said Bill, who approached him with an extended hand. "A pleasure to meet you at last."

"The same," said Charlie, who did the same thing Bill did. "I've heard a lot of good things from Mum and Dad."

"I'm sure it's an exaggeration," said Marcus as he shook both of their hands.

"So, we're only missing a couple of people, aren't we, Ron?"

"Well, Mum and Ginny will be getting Hermione tomorrow," Ron stated. "And the rest of us will be getting Harry, Marcus included."

"I would've thought your Dad would go to Hermione's place," Marcus stated.

"Actually, he wanted to," Ron said. "But, Mum stamped out the idea at once. Can't exactly blame her. I don't think we'd get Dad back otherwise."

"Ron, can you come here?" shouted Mrs. Weasley from the backyard. "I need some help with the vegetables."

"Coming, Mum," shouted Ron, who scurried out the back door.

Marcus then looked to Charlie and said, "I'm actually curious about something, Charlie."

"Hm?"

"When you were at Hogwarts, you were considered a Quidditch natural, right?"

"I guess so."

"So, if you were talented enough to land a spot on a national Quidditch team, how come you went into the profession of studying dragons?"

All of a sudden, Marcus heard Bill say, "Oh, bloody hell, here we go again."

"Shut it, Bill!" Charlie exclaimed. "Marcus asked the question, it's only fair he gets the answer."

"Better hang on tight, Marcus," Bill told him. "This one's a doozy."

Marcus took a seat alongside Charlie at the kitchen table and that's when Charlie began.

"It was around my fifth year, shortly after the Christmas holidays. Everyone just got back, and Quidditch practice hadn't resumed yet, so I was quite bored. In those days, I would happen to go to the library and pick out a book regarding magical creatures. I've always been fascinated with them, since I was really young. This day, however, would happen to change my life from there on."

"Really?" Marcus asked. "How come?"

"Because that's when he went mental," Bill remarked.

"Bill," Charlie growled in such a way that Bill put his hands up in surrender and said, "Sorry, slip of the tongue. Please, continue."

Charlie coughed and continued, "I happen to stumble across the dragon section of the library, where this particular book happen to stick out in my mind, so I felt like I had to grab it. Not really sure why, looking back on it. The book was in a dusty corner at the bottom of the bookshelf, and it probably hadn't been cleaned in -"

He glanced at Marcus, who gave a sort of puzzled look that prompted Charlie to say, "-well, anyway, I took the book, sat down at the nearest table, and started to flip through the pages. At first, it was pretty standard material, nothing I hadn't read before. But, halfway through, a passage had caught my undivided attention."

"And that being?"

"A passage on a legendary dragon, the likes of which hasn't been seen for centuries, not since the time of Merlin: The Shieldhide."

"The Shieldhide?" asked Marcus in earnest.

"Oh, yes," said Charlie, whose face started to form a smile, "Known for their impenetrable dragon hide, the Shieldhide were revered for being able to win wars for countries in what seemed like overnight. As such, they were also known as the Victory Dragon, such was their guarantee in battle."

Marcus felt as if he read the term before, but he put it to the side as he asked, "What made them such fearsome beasts to begin with?"

"No one really knows for sure, not these days, anyway," said Charlie. "But, from what I read, it was their unparalled ferocity and their small stature."

"Small stature?"

"The longest Shieldhide ever measured was only ten feet long, unusually small for wyverns. It seemed that this played to their strengths somehow. But, I also think that they were quite intelligent, as well."

"What makes you say that?"

"Unexplainable things would happen whenever a Shieldhide dragon was spotted in battle. It was as if they knew who to take down, who to maim, and who to kill. Normal dragons just wreck whoever are in their way when angered, which to me says that the Shieldhide were quite intelligent."

"And what do they look like?"

"No one knows today, and anyone who could have told us have long since passed on," said Charlie, who sounded a bit disappointed. "As much as they were revered, they were feared just as much, if not more. It was so bad that no one was brave enough to draw what a Shieldhide looked like out of fear of their own lives. Said it brought bad omens, or something to that effect."

"So, a dragon who had impenetrable hide, unparalled ferocity, and may have displayed great intelligence once existed?" asked Marcus. "Where are they now? Surely, such a powerful type of dragon couldn't have just up and disappeared."

To this, Charlie just sighed and said, "Well, the last bit of the passage I read that day said that an incident took place in Europe during Merlin's time forced all the Shieldhide to fly west over the horizon, never to be seen again. I guess, if they were to be found today, they would be called American Shieldhides. Problem is, no one has found them."

"That's because they no longer exist, Charlie," said Bill in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I don't believe that, Bill," said Charlie in quite the serious tone. "And I'll prove everyone otherwise."

Charlie then looked to Marcus and stated, "Since I read that passage, it's been my dream to understand dragons so that, when I find a Shieldhide one day, I can understand them. And that's how I came to have studying dragons as a profession."

"I hope you do find them, Charlie," said Marcus with a smirk, who then looked to Bill and said, "And how exactly were you able to become a curse-breaker?"

"Well, I always had a curiosity for spells, curses in particular," Bill explained. "My curiosity got to the point where I became quite knowledgable in how curses work. As such, they were easy to break. I traveled around the world a bit to satisfy my curiosity and, before I knew it, I was offered a job at Gringott's Egypt branch as a curse-breaker."

Marcus sweatdropped a bit as he asked, "Isn't that a bit simplistic?"

"Perhaps," said Bill. "Better than chasing some fantasy, though."

"Knock it off, Bill!" said Charlie, who stood up from his chair to face Bill.

Suddenly, he heard a voice from the back door say, "Enough, Bill, Charlie! Come on, help me set the table!"

"Yes, Mom," both of them said at the same time.

As Bill and Charlie helped set the dinner table, Marcus saw Mrs. Weasley approach him from his left, her left hand cupping her face in worry and said, "Oh, dear, I was hoping we would avoid that topic."

Marcus looked to her and asked, "What do you mean, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, "Charlie's inspiration for studying dragons has always been a sensitive topic under this roof, Bill in particular. Goodness knows I've had to break them apart more times than I can count. Bill's a practical man, doesn't necessarily believes in legends and tales of the sort."

"And what is it that you believe?"

"At the end of the day, it doesn't really matter what I believe," said Mrs. Weasley. "All that matters is what you believe, and what you're willing to do in what you believe. Now, could you be a dear and round everyone up? Dinner is almost ready."

"Of course," said Marcus with a smirk.

Dinner was a rather standard affair. Not too many words were exchanged, not even from Fred and George, which surprised Marcus. All they did was mumble to themselves, earning nasty glares from Mrs. Weasley, though why that was, Marcus couldn't tell. He also noticed that Bill and Charlie were back to normal, even having a friendly conversation.

As Ron and Marcus were going up to his room in the attic, Ron looked to Marcus and said, "What's the matter, Marcus? You've been awful quiet."

"Ron, do you think Shieldhides exist?"

Marcus looked to Ron, who had a brief look of surprise before saying, "Charlie must've told you his story. Hmm...well, it's not that I don't believe they exist. It's just..."

"What?"

"Well, they disappeared around the time of Merlin," said Ron. "No one has even seen one or even proof of their existence for nearly eight centuries. It's hard to believe they're still around when there's nothing to prove it, isn't it?"

"I suppose so."

"Why do you ask, Marcus? Do you believe they're still around?"

"Well, a dragon with such attriubtes as the Shieldhides couldn't have possibly died off," Marcus stated. "That, and..."

"And?"

"I guess it's just a feeling I have," said Marcus. "When Charlie was explaining the Shieldhide's attributes, I had a feeling I've seen it before."

"Really?!" said a startled Ron. "Where?!"

Marcus put on a puzzled look on his face and said, "That's just it: I don't remember. I mean, I couldn't possibly have physically seen one. I think I would've remembered otherwise."

"Well, if you believe that they're still around, then I'll keep an open mind."

As Marcus was laying in his makeshift bed, his mind was entirely on the idea of the Shieldhide dragon. He could sympathize with Charlie's passion in this regard. How could such a powerful species of dragon just one day up and disappear like that? If they were merely in hiding, what would keep them hidden from the world for such a long time?

He didn't realize how long he was thinking about the subject, because he rolled over to check the time and realized that it was already four in the morning.

 _"Crap!"_ thought Marcus. _"Time for my morning workout!"_

Eventually, Marcus was able to make it to his designated workout meadow, a nice clearing of grass nestled in the woods about two miles out from the Burrow. He started his workout with his standard circuit training, followed by a cardio intense session, and finally ended it with sword practice.

However, Marcus noticed something different during this training session. It must've taken place several sessions ago, but he didn't give it much thought, as he was too focused. However, it was more prominent than ever.

He felt incredibly sensitive to his surrounding areas, almost as if he knew exactly what was going on with everything around him. Where certain animals were, which trees were dropping their leaves. This left him quite confused. He was pretty sure he hadn't done any instinctual training, as he didn't know how. So, how could he possibly be attuned to everything around him?

At the very end of the training, he sensed someone coming from behind him. He whipped his wooden nodachi blade around to face this someone, only to find -

"Charlie!" exclaimed Marcus, who put down his weapon hurriedly. "Sorry about that!"

"It's quite all right," he stated, giving off a nervous chuckle. "I wanted to join you out here for a bit before Mum got breakfast around. Nice meadow you found, Marcus."

"Yeah, I found it when I stayed at the Burrow for the first time," stated Marcus. "For some reason, it really screamed out as a nice workout spot and, well, I've been using it everytime I've stayed here since."

"So, still thinking about the Shieldhides, aren't you?"

Marcus looked to Charlie and said, "Was it that obvious?"

"Well, Ron told me about it," Charlie clarified. "Well, more so scolded, I'd say. Anyway, I wouldn't think about it too much while you have other important matters, like school and bettering yourself. Leave it to the professionals, all right?"

"I see what you did there," Marcus remarked, to which he followed up with, "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Now, what do you say we return back to the house? Mum should be finishing up breakfast by now."

Almost as if it was on cue, Marcus noticed a peculiar set of smells in the air.

"Ooh, what's this?" Marcus asked out loud. He sniffed the air a few more times and said, "Cheesy scrambled eggs? Wheat toast? Apples and Oranges, I think. Ooh, no way! She made Shepard's Pie for breakfast?! Not to mention corn beef hash and applewood bacon! Ooh, come on, Charlie, this is going to be fantastic!"

* * *

"Well, everyone, dig in!" Mrs. Weasley told everyone.

As Marcus helped himself to some Shepard's Pie and bacon, Mr. Weasley said, "Are you all right, Charlie?"

Marcus glanced over to Charlie, whose mouth was agape, something akin to shock.

"Um, Charlie?" Marcus said.

Charlie then rounded on Marcus and said, "How did you do it?!"

"Huh?"

"How were you able to guess everything Mum cooked like that?!"

"Oh, Charlie, be reasonable," said Ginny, who was enjoying her scrambled eggs. "He obviously smelled it all when you two were coming back to the house."

"He accurately stated our breakfast two miles away, in the middle of the woods!"

Marcus then noticed that all eyes were on him as Fred said, "Oi, old geezer, is Charlie saying the truth?"

"Um, yeah, he is," Marcus stated in a nervous voice.

"How did you do it?!" asked George.

Marcus knew that he needed to get himself out of this situation fast, as it was making him more uncomfortable by the second.

"Well, obviously, Mrs. Weasley's cooking is just that exceptional," Marcus stated rather fast. "Seems to me that all those years hanging around those dragons is destroying your sense of smell, Charlie."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Charlie.

"I bet he means all of that dragon dung," said Fred, making waving motions with his right hand in front of his noise and contorting his face to one of mock disgust.

"Can't imagine working with that smell in the air," said George, pretending to faint from a fake, disgusting smell.

"It's not that bad!" Charlie protested, to which he fell silent after that.

"So, Mr. Weasley, what's the plan today?" asked Marcus, eager to switch the topic.

"Well, Molly and Ginny are going to be getting Hermione from her residence," said Mr. Weasley. "Once they return with her, then the rest of us guys, except for Charlie and Bill, will go and get Harry from his place."

"And how exactly will we accomplish that?"

"I've arranged it with your father to pick him up via Floo Network."

"Oh, great," said Marcus sarcastically. "This couldn't possibly go wrong."

"If all goes to plan, we should arrive at Harry's precisely at noon and get him back here in no time."

 _"Well, it'll be interesting, to say the least,"_ thought Marcus.

As Marcus was getting ready later in the morning, he saw Fred and George peering over something in Ron's room.

"All right, you two, what's going on?" said Marcus. "You haven't made nearly as many elderly jokes as you should have by now!"

Fred looked over his right shoulder and said, "Well, if it's you, I guess it's okay. What do you think, George?"

"I think ol' bag of bones over there is trustworthy," said George. "Let's tell him."

Fred and George then made sure no one else was around, then said, "We're planning on opening our own joke shop."

"Really?" said Marcus, who was taken by surprise. "Opening up your own shop?"

"What's wrong with that?" asked Fred.

"Well, it's just that opening up any shop takes a lot of time and money, and not all businesses are successful," stated Marcus.

"Well, we've already started a starter list of the products we'd sell," said George, who handed him their parchment.

Marcus took a look at it and, by the time he was done looking at it, said, "Wow, a lot of these products sound like really good sellers! And you've made all these items already?!"

"Yes," said Fred. "Well, at least, before Mum destroyed most of them."

"Huh?!"

"Yeah, Mum already knows we're trying to open up a joke shop," George said in a sour tone. "Wasn't too happy about it, either. Said that we had our priorities wrong and that we should've concentrated on getting more O.W.L.'s"

"That's just it, though," said Fred. "We know our talents don't lie within the system, and we don't think we should be forced through that system just because everyone else goes through it."

"I completely agree with you," said Marcus.

He saw the looks of surprise on the Twin's faces before continuing, "Take me, for example. I do physical workouts nearly every day to better my physical condition, even though magic folk consider it a waste of time. Do I care what they think is considered normal? No, I don't, because I only care about what's best for me."

He then allowed a smirk on his face and said, "You two may be the biggest troublemakers I've ever met, but you've never failed to make the people around you smile and laugh. And, if you think the best thing to do is by opening up a joke shop so that people from all over can smile and laugh, then you two have my full support."

"Well said, old man!" said Fred.

"Nice to see that someone understands!" said George.

All of a sudden, he heard Mr. Weasley speak.

"All right, your Mum and Ginny should be returning with Hermione shortly. Ron, can you go and get Fred, George, and Marcus? I want all of us ready before we depart."

Marcus turned to Fred and George and said, "I think we should wrap this up. Mr. Weasley just sent Ron for us."

"How d'you know that for sure?" asked Fred.

"I heard him say it."

Right on cue, the door opened to reveal Ron, saying, "Guys, we should get downstairs. Dad's all ready by the fireplace."

Fred and George looked at Ron, confused, with Fred saying, "Wait, Dad's not up here?"

"No, he's been by the fireplace, waiting for Mum and Ginny to return with Hermione."

Fred looked at Marcus and said, "Didn't you say Dad sent Ron for us?"

"Yeah, I heard him as if he was right next to me."

Marcus then did a mental double take. _"Wait, how in the world did I hear Mr. Weasley if he was by the fireplace?! That's on the complete opposite side of the house! What in the world's going on?!"_

Marcus then said hurriedly, "Of course, I was able to accomplish this thanks to my training. See what I mean, Fred and George?"

"Ah, right," they chorused together.

"Come on, let's go," said Marcus.

But, as they were going down the stairs, Marcus thought, _"I have no idea what's going on with me right now! First, the breakfast debacle, then this?! I can't make head or tails of this!"_

As they gathered by the fireplace, waiting for the ladies to return, Fred leaned over to Marcus and whispered, "Oi, Marcus, are you feeling all right?"

"As fine as I can be," whispered Marcus right back.

Suddenly, the fireplace sprouted a green flame and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny came into the kitchen, along with -

"Hermione!" Marcus said.

"Marcus!" said Hermione, who hugged him. "It's been too long!"

"Well, I'm glad to see that getting Hermione went without a hitch," said Mr. Weasley. "Marcus, want to do the honors?"

"You bet!" said Marcus, who let go of Hermione, grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder, and went into the fireplace with Mr. Weasley.

"Hey, old fart, don't get too ahead of us now!" Fred told Marcus.

"Ron, stay behind a bit," said Mr. Weasley. "If we're not back with Harry in a couple of minutes, then use the Floo Network."

"Right," said Ron.

"All right, Marcus, whenever you're ready," said Mr. Weasley.

Marcus took a deep breath before shouting, "Number Four Privet Drive!"

He threw down the powder and was engulfed in a green flame.

He then saw numerous fireplaces, but Marcus knew which one to go through. He tried to go through it, only to be stymied.

"What the crap is this?!" Marcus said before feeling Mr. Weasley's full weight upon him.

"Ouch!" said Mr. Weasley. "Fred no - go back, go back, there's been some kind of mistake - tell George not to - OUCH! George, no, there's no room, go back quickly and tell Ron -"

"Of course this wouldn't go without a hitch!" said Marcus. "It just couldn't be that simple!"

"Maybe Harry can hear us, Dad," Fred told Mr. Weasley. "Maybe he'll be able to let us out -"

Marcus immediately started to hammer the wall and said, "Hey Harry! If you can hear us, get over here, quick!"

All of a sudden, Marcus heard a very familiar, very unwanted voice growl, "What is this? What's going on?"

"They - they've tried to get here by Floo Powder," Marcus could hear Harry say, and by the sound of it, he was fighting the desire to bust out laughing. "They can travel by fire - only you've blocked the fireplace - hang on -"

He then heard Harry say, "Marcus? Mr. Weasley? Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Harry," stated Marcus.

Marcus then heard Harry say, "The fireplace has been blocked up. You guys won't be able to get through there."

"Leave it to some great prunes of Muggles to _actually_ block a fireplace!" growled Marcus. "No common sense whatsoever!"

"Harry, what on earth did they want to block up the fireplace for?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"They've got an electric fire," Harry explained.

"Really?" Mr. Weasley asked excitingly. "Eclectic, you say? With a _plug_? Gracious, I must see that..."

"Mr. Weasley, now is _not_ the time!" Marcus growled, growing more impatient the longer he was stuck in the fireplace.

"Right, right," Mr. Weasley hurriedly said. "Let's see here...ouch, Ron!"

Marcus suddenly felt more weight on his shoulders and, while it wasn't more than he could physically tolerate, his patience was quickly wearing thin.

"What are we doing here?" Marcus could hear Ron ask. "Has something gone wrong?"

"Oh, no, Ron," came Fred's voice, very sarcastically. "No, this is exactly where we wanted to end up."

"Yeah, we're having the time of our lives here," said George, who sounded like his face was squashed against the wall.

"I just couldn't possibly imagine being anywhere else except in this beautiful fireplace," said Marcus, his sarcasm dripping like a waterfall.

"Boy, boys..." said Mr. Weasley vaguely. "I'm trying to think what to do...Yes...only way...Stand back, Harry."

 _"What on Earth is he -?!"_ Marcus started to think.

He saw a spell trail by his face for the briefest of a second and, the next thing he knew, he went tumbling out of the fireplace.

As he recovered himself, he heard Mr. Weasley pant, "That's better." He took a few seconds to straight his glasses and his green robes. "Ah - you must be Harry's aunt and uncle."

Mr. Weasley went to shake Mr. Dursley's hands, but Marcus saw him back away several paces. Mr. Dursley was wearing a nicer suit than Marcus thought would be possible for him, but the incident with the fireplace caused said suit to look rather drab, and the fact that the settling soot on his hair and mustache made him look thirty years older was not helping.

"Er - yes - sorry about that," said Mr. Weasley, who lowered his hand looked over his shoulder at the wrecked fireplace. "It's all my fault. It just didn't occur to me that we wouldn't be able to get out at the other end. I had your fireplace connected to the Floo Network, you see - just for an afternoon, you know, so we could get Harry. Muggle fireplaces aren't supposed to be connected, strictly speaking - but I've got a useful contact at the Ministry of Magic and he fixed it for me. I can put it right in a jiffy, though, don't worry. I'll light a fire to send the boys back, and then I can repair your fireplace before I Disapparate."

 _"If the Dursleys got even one word of what Mr. Weasley said, I'll glady donate all of my Galleons away,"_ thought Marcus as he saw Mr. and Mrs. Dursley still staring at Mr. Weasley, no doubt thunderstruck. Mrs. Dursley staggered upright once more and hid behind Mr. Dursley.

"Hello, Harry!" said Mr. Weasley brightly. "Got your trunk ready?"

"It's upstairs," said Harry, who was grinning back.

"We'll get it," said Fred at once. He winked at Harry once before him and George left the room. They knew where Harry's room was, having taken part in the rescue of Harry two summers ago. Marcus had a sneaking suspicion that the Twins were trying to get a glimpse of Dudley. No doubt Harry told a lot of things about the boy.

"Well," said Mr. Weasley, swinging his arms slightly, while he tried to find words to break the very nasty silence. "Very - erm - very nice place you've got here."

Marcus facepalmed himself, thinking, _"Yeah, I was right: This is about as smoothly as I thought it was going to go."_

He then saw Mr. Weasley surveying the living room, checking out all the apparatuses in the vincinity.

"They run off eckeltricity, do they?" he said knowledgeably. "Ah, yes, I can see the plugs. I collect plugs," he added to Uncle Vernon. "And batteries. Got a very large collection of batteries. My wife think I"m mad, but there you are."

Based on the looks of Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, Marcus surmised that they thought the same way about Mr. Weasley, but as Marcus didn't necessarily care about them, he let it go.

He then saw who Marcus surmised to be Dudley reappearing in the room. No doubt the clunk of Harry's trunk on the stairs had scared Dudley from whatever room he was hiding in. The boy edged along the wall, gazing at Mr. Weasley with terrified eyes. However, he then saw Marcus, who decided to give him an evil smirk. To this, the boy attempted to conceal himself behind his mother and father, covering his rear end as if it was going to fall off. To this, Marcus silently scoffed. While it was more than sufficient for Mr. Dursley to hide his bony wife, the same could not be said for the boy. It did bring Marcus some satisfaction that Dudley didn't forget the first time he met him.

"Ah, this is your cousin, is it, Harry?" said Mr. Weasley, taking another brave stab at making conversation.

"Yep," said Harry, "that's Dudley."

"My God, I didn't think it was possible that he could get any fatter," said Marcus, clearly goading him. "Goodness, hot air balloons are smaller than him!"

He heard Harry trying desperately to conceal his laughter while Mr. Dursley roared, "I'm not going to allow some punk to bully around my son like that!"

Marcus summoned his wand, pointed it at Mr. Dursley, and said in a dark tone, "Last time I saw him, Dudley was sporting a very befitting pig's tail on his rear end. Personally, I think it would be even more suited on _yours._ What do you think?"

All manner of courage left Mr. Dursley's face, leaving it very blanched and very cowardly.

"Marcus, for goodness sake, put your wand away!" scolded Mr. Weasley. Marcus, despite the fun he was having, loosened his grip on his wand, which proceeded to shoot back up his left arm sleeve.

Mr. Weasley then turned to face Dudley and said, "Having a good holiday, Dudley?"

Dudley whimpered. Marcus saw his hands tighten still harder over his massive backside.

Fred and George came back into the room carrying Harry's school trunk. They glanced around as they entered and spotted Dudley. Their faces cracked into identical evil grins.

"Ah, right," said Mr. Weasley. "Better get cracking then."

He pushed up the sleeves of his robes and took out his wand. Marcus saw that the Dursleys draw back against the wall as one, leaving Marcus confused as to why they didn't do the same with him.

 _"Incendio!"_ said Mr. Weasley, pointing his wand at the hole in the wall behind him.

Flames rose at once in the fireplace, crackling merrily as though they had been burning for hours. Mr. Weasley took a small drawstring bag from his pocket, untied it, took a pinch of the powder inside, and threw it onto the flames, which turned emerald green and roared higher than ever.

"Off you go then, Fred," said Mr. Weasley.

"Coming," said Fred. "Oh no - hang on -"

A bag of sweets had spilled out of Fred's pocket and the contents were now spilling in every direction - big, fat toffees in brightly colored wrappers.

Fred scrambled around, cramming them back into his pocket, then gave the Dursleys a cheery wave, stepped forward, and walked right into the fire, saying "the Burrow!" Mrs. Dursley gave a litte shuddering gasp. There was a wooshing sound, and Fred vanished.

"Right then, George," said Mr. Weasley, "you and the trunk."

As Harry helped George carry the trunk forward into the flames and turn it onto its end so that he could hold it better, Marcus noticed out of the corner of his eye that one remaining brightly colored wrapped toffee still loomed on the living room floor. He then glanced at Dudley, who had spotted it and started to make his way towards it.

 _"Ooh, ho, ho,"_ thought Marcus. _"Looks like this trip won't be such a waste after all."_

He then looked back at George, who had cried, "the Burrow!" and was whisked away, just like Fred.

"Ron, you next," said Mr. Weasley.

"See you," said Ron brightly to the Dursleys. He grinned broadly at Marcus and Harry, then stepped into the fire, shouted "the Burrow!" and disappeared.

Now, only Marcus, Harry, and Mr. Weasley alone remained.

"Well...'bye then," Harry said to the Dursleys.

They didn't say anything at all, which Marcus expected of them. Marcus and Harry moved together toward the fire, but just as they reached the edge of the hearth, Marcus saw Mr. Weasley put out a hand and held him back. He was looking at the Dursleys in amazement.

"Harry said good-bye to you," he said. "Didn't you hear him?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry muttered to Mr. Weasley. "Honestly, I don't care."

"Mr. Weasley, it's a little much to be asking these particular Muggles to practice good ettiquettte," said Marcus, not bothering to keep his voice low.

Mr. Weasley, however, did not remove his hand from Harry's shoulder.

"You aren't going to see your nephew till next summer," he said to Mr. Dursley in mild indignation. "Surely, you're going to say good-bye?"

Marcus saw the face of Mr. Dursley work furiously, as if he was waging war with his inner demons. The idea of being taught consideration by a man who had just blasted away half his living wall seemed to, no doubt, cause him intense suffering. But, as Mr. Weasley was still gripping his wand (and Mr. Dursley glancing at it once), he let out a very forced, very resented, "Good-bye, then."

"See you," said Harry. And as the two boys put one foot forward into the green fire, feeling like a pleasant warm breath, Marcus heard a horrible gagging sound erupt from behind him, and Mrs. Dursley started to scream.

 _"Looks like it's time to see the results,"_ thought Marcus with satisfaction.

He turned around to see that Dudley was no longer standing behind his parents. He was kneeling beside the coffee table, and he was gagging and sputtering on a foot-long purple, slimy thing that was protruding from his mouth. When Marcus realized that the slimy protrusion was, in fact, Dudley's tongue, it took everything he had not to bust out laughing from what he was seeing.

Mrs. Dursley hurled herself onto the ground beside Dudley, seized the end of his swollen tongue, and attempted to wrench it out of his mouth; not surprisingly, Dudley yelled and sputtered worse than ever, trying to fight her off. Mr. Dursley was bellowing and waving his arms around, and Mr. Weasley had to shout to make himself heard.

"Not to worry, I can sort him out!" he yelled, advancing on Dudley with his wand outstretched, but Mrs. Dursley screamed worse than ever and threw herself on top of Dudley, shielding him from Mr. Weasley.

"No, really!" said Mr. Weasley desperately. "It's a simple process - it was the toffee - my son Fred - real practical joker - but it's only an Engorgement Charm - at least, I think it is - please, I can correct it -"

But far from being reassured, the Dursleys became more panic-stricken; Mrs. Dursley was sobbing hysterically, tugging Dudley's tongue as though determined to rip it out; Dudley appeared to be suffocating under the combined pressure of his mother and his tongue; and Mr. Dursley, who had completely lost control completely, seized a china figure from on top the the sideboard and threw it very hard at Mr. Weasley, who ducked, causing the ornament to shatter in the blasted fireplace.

"Now really!" said Mr. Weasley angrily, brandishing his wand. "I'm trying to _help_!"

Bellowing like a wounded hippo, Mr. Dursley snatched up another ornament.

"Harry, Marcus, go! Just go!" Mr. Weasley shouted, his wand on Mr. Dursley. "I'll sort this out!"

Marcus most certainly didn't want to go, as he was having far too much enjoyment watching this debacle unfold before his eyes. However, as Marcus had to dodge Mr. Dursley's second ornament to prevent smashing in his face, he thought it best to depart before he found himself in an irrevocable situation. They stepped into the fire, looking over their shoulders as Marcus said, "the Burrow!" Marcus' last fleeting look of the living room was of Mr. Weasley blasting a third ornament out of Mr. Dursley's hand with his wand, Mrs. Dursley screaming and lying on top of Dudley, and Dudley's tongue lolling around like a great slimy python. But next moment, Marcus and Harry had begun to spin very fast, and the Dursleys' living room was whipped out of sight in a rush of emerald-green flames.

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review, as this helps me refine my writing skills! If you want to ask me anything, feel free to leave me a PM and I promise that I will answer your questions to the best of my ability. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	5. (05) The Tale of Merlin's Last Act

**Welcome, one and all, to yet another chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Hope that everyone is enjoying the story so far, as it always makes me happy to see people taking the time out of their day to read what I post. Anyway, as usual...**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing of HP, which makes me sad. I do, however, own all OC's that are in this series, so no stealing!**

 **With that, here's...**

Chapter 5: The Tale of Merlin's Last Act

 **Enjoy!**

Marcus and Harry kept whizzing by fireplace after fireplace until they were finally slowing down. While Marcus landed on his feet, Harry wasn't so lucky: He started to fall forward, but Harry threw out his hands, causing him instead to fall backwards.

"Did he eat it?" said Fred excitedly, holding out a hand to pull Harry to his feet.

"Yeah," said Harry, straightening up. "What _was_ it?"

"Ton-Tongue Toffee," said Fred brightly. "George and I invented them, and we've been looking for someone to test them on all summer..."

The tiny kitchen exploded with laughter, including Marcus. Marcus also noticed that Ron and George were sitting with Bill and Charlie, the two eldest boys waiting for their return.

"How're you doing, Harry?" said Charlie, grinning at him and holding out one of his large hands to shake, to which Harry shook it.

As Bill approached Harry and did the same thing Charlie did, Marcus heard a faint popping noise. He turned to see Mr. Weasley standing at George's shoulder. He was looking angrier than Marcus had ever seen him.

"That _wasn't_ funny, Fred!" he shouted. "What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?"

"I didn't give him anything," said Fred, with another evil grin. "I just _dropped_ it...It was his fault he went and ate it, I never told him to."

"You dropped it on purpose!" roared Mr. Weasley. "You knew he'd eat it, you knew he was on a diet -"

"How big did his tongue get?" George asked eagerly.

"It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!"

Marcus, Harry, and the Weasleys roared with laughter again.

"It _isn't funny_!" Mr. Weasley shouted. "That sort of behavior seriously undermines wizard-Muggle relations! I spent half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons -"

"We didn't give it to him because he's a Muggle!" said Fred indignantly.

"No, we gave it to him because he's a great bullying git," said George. "Isn't he, boys?"

"Yeah, he is, Mr. Weasley," said Marcus and Harry in earnest.

"That's not the point!" raged Mr. Weasley. "You wait until I tell your mother -"

"Tell me what?" said a familiar voice behind him.

All manner of laughter and cheer died the moment Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen. Marcus knew why: Her eyes were very narrow of suspicion, much like they were when Marcus came back from Harry's rescue mission two summers ago. Like back then, this sent a shiver up Marcus' spine.

"Oh hello, Harry, dear," she said, spotting him and smiling. Then her eyes snapped back to her husband. "Tell me _what_ , Arthur?"

Mr. Weasley hesitated. Marcus could tell that, however angry he was with Fred and George, he hadn't really intended to tell Mrs. Weasley what had happened. There was an unnatural silence, while Mr. Weasley eyed his wife nervously. Then Hermione and Ginny appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Mrs. Weasley. Both of them smiled at Harry, to which he grinned back, making Ginny go scarlet - she had been very taken with Harry ever since his first visit to the Burrow.

"Tell me _what_ , Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley repeated, in a dangerous sort of voice.

"It's nothing, Molly," mumbled Mr. Weasley. "Fred and George just - but I've had words with them -"

"What have they done this time?" said Mrs. Weasley. "If it's got anything to do with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes -"

"Why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping, Ron?" said Hermione from the doorway.

"He knows where he's sleeping," said Ron, "in my room, he slept there last -"

"We can all go, Ron," Marcus said, nudging him in the ribs.

"Oh," said Ron, who was catching on. "Right."

"Yeah, we'll come too," said George.

" _You stay where you are!_ " snarled Mrs. Weasley.

 _"And that's my cue to leave,"_ thought Marcus as the three boys edged out of the kitchen, and they, Hermione, and Ginny set off along the narrow hallway and up the rickety staircase that zigzagged through the house to the upper stories.

"What are Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?" Harry asked as they climbed.

Ron and Ginny laughed while Marcus smirked, although Hermione did neither.

"Mum found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning Fred and George's room," said Ron quietly. "Great long price lists for stuff they've invented. Joke stuff, you know. Fake wands and trick sweets, loads of stuff. It was brilliant, I never knew they'd been inventing all that..."

"We've been hearing explosions out of their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually _making_ things," said Ginny. "We thought they just like the noise."

"Only, most of the stuff - well, all of it, really - was a bit dangerous," said Ron, "and, you know, they were planning to sell it at Hogwarts to make some money, and Mum went mad at them. Told them they weren't allowed to make any more of it, and burned all the order forms...She's furious at them anyway. They didn't get as many O.W.L.s as she expected.

"And then there was this big row," Ginny said, "because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad, and they told all they want to do is open a joke shop."

"I think it's a great move for them," said Marcus. "Given the opportunity, they'd be really successful."

"Marcus!" scolded Hermione. "They should really concentrate on their studies!"

"No, what they should concentrate on is a lifestyle that'll play to their greatest talent," said Marcus. "They're going after something that'll make them happy in life, and everyone gets on their case just because it doesn't fall within the system. I applaud them for going against the grain and pursuing their dream, because they are a lot of magic folk who are far too stagnant and stalwart to do such a thing."

At that point, a door on the second landing opened, and a face poked out wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a very annoyed expression.

"Hi, Percy," said Harry.

"Oh, hello, Harry," said Percy. "I was wondering who was making all the noise. I'm trying to work in here, you know - I've got a report to finish for the office - and it's rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs."

"We're not _thundering_ ," said Ron irritably. "We're walking. Sorry if we've disturbed the top-secret workings of the Ministry of Magic."

"What are you working on?" said Harry.

"A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation," said Percy smugly. "We're trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin - leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three percent a year -"

"That'll change the world, that report will," said Ron. "Front page of the _Daily Prophet_ , I expect, cauldron leaks."

Percy went slightly pink.

"You might sneer, Ron," he said heatedly, "but unless some sort of international law is imposed we might well find the market flooded with flimsy, shallow-bottomed products that seriously endanger -"

"Yeah, yeah, all right," said Ron, and he started off upstairs again. As Percy slammed his bedroom door shut, Marcus was silently thanking himself that he'd only seen Percy a scarce number of times during his stay. It was no surprise that Marcus' least favorite Weasley was Percy, as his personality seemed to epitomize everything that he hated about normal Ministry of Magic officials, and Percy's personality seemed to have gotten worse, on top of that.

Suddenly, after following up Ron three more flights of stairs, Marcus got bombarded with noise that he could only surmise to be Mrs. Weasley blowing her top off due to Mr. Weasley finally telling her about the Ton-Tongue Toffee. To Marcus, it was as if someone decided to use the Noise Amplification Spell on themself point-blank.

"Ugh!" groaned Marcus as he was forced to cover both of his ears to try and shield the majority of the noise.

"Are you all right?" asked Hermione.

"I'll be fine," said Marcus, who thought it was more wishful thinking than anything else.

As Marcus and everything went inside Ron's room, he noticed that a familiar tiny gray owl was hopping up and down in a small cage and twittering madly.

"Shut _up_ , Pig," said Ron, who made his way through the five makeshift beds that was squeezed into the room. "Fred and George are in here with us, because Bill and Charlie are in their room," he told Harry. "Percy gets to keep his room all to himself because he's got to _work_."

"Er - why are you calling that owl Pig?" Harry asked Ron.

Marcus, who was able to block out most of Mrs. Weasley's deafening yelling, said, "I was just wondering about that, actually. Why is it that you're calling your owl Pig?"

"Because he's being stupid," said Ginny. "Its proper name is Pigwidgeon."

"Yeah, and that's not a stupid name at all," said Ron sarcastically. "Ginny named him," Ron told Marcus and Harry. "She reckons it's sweet. And I tried to change it, but it was too late, he won't answer to anything else. So now he's Pig. I've got to keep him up here because he annoys Errol and Hermes. He annoys me too, come to that."

 _"Yeah, note to self: Do NOT let Ginny name any of my animals,"_ Marcus thought, wholeheartedly agreeing on the stupidity of the name Pigwidgeon. Even though Ron was complaining about his pet owl, he knew better than to actually take Ron seriously in this matter, especially considering how upset Ron was when he thought Scabbers, his former pet rat, had been eaten by Crookshanks.

"Where exactly is Crookshanks?" asked Marcus.

"Out in the garden, I expect," she said. "He likes chasing gnomes. He's never seen any before."

"Percy's enjoying work, then?" said Harry, sitting down on one of the beds and watching the Chudley Cannons zooming in and out of the posters on the ceiling.

"Enjoying it?" said Ron darkly. "I don't reckon he'd come home if Dad didn't make him. He's obsessed. Just don't get him onto the subject of his boss. _According to Mr. Crouch...as I was saying to Mr. Crouch...Mr. Crouch is of the opinion...Mr. Crouch was telling me..._ They'll be announcing their engagement any day now."

"Have you had a good summer, Harry?" said Hermione. "Did you get our food parcels and everything?"

"Yeah, thanks a lot," said Harry. "They saved my life, those cakes."

"Hey, Marcus, have you heard from -" Ron began, but one look look from Hermione was enough for him to fall silent. Marcus knew that Ron was going to ask him about Sirius, who he only heard from once: The day he got back home from King's Cross. He sent a letter back to Sirius only telling him that to keep doing what he always was doing and to keep him alert to anything suspicious.

Marcus' last year at Hogwarts was him being heavily involved in trying to prove Sirius' innocence to no avail, as much as he didn't want to admit. What he did succeed in was making sure that his godfather (and Harry's) was still alive, and since Ron and Hermione helped them out with that task, the two of them were almost as concerned about Sirius as Marcus and Harry were. Marcus did reason that talking about Sirius was not a good idea at the moment, considering Ginny was in their presence. Nobody, save for Professor Dumbledore and the four of them, knew about how Sirius had escpaed, or believed in his innocence, for that matter.

"I think they've stopped arguing," said Hermione to break the tension, especially when Ginny looking between the four of them. "Shall we go down and help your mum with dinner?"

"Yeah, all right," said Ron. The five of them left Ron's room and went back downstairs to find Mrs. Weasley alone in the kitchen, looking extremely bad-tempered.

"We're eating out in the garden," she said when they came in. "There's just not room for fifteen people in here. Could you take the plates outside, girls? Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. Knives and forks, please, you two," she said to Ron and Harry, pointing her wand a little more vigorously than she had intended at a pile of potatoes in the sink, which shot out of their skins so fast that they ricocheted off the walls and ceiling.

"Oh for heaven's _sake_ ," she snapped, now directing her wand at a dustpan, which hopped off the sideboard and started skaiting across the floor, scooping up the potatoes. "Those two!" she burst out rather savagely, now pulling pots and pans out of a cupboard, and Marcus knew instantly she was referring to Fred and George. "I don't know what's going to happen to them, I really don't. No ambition, unless you count making as much trouble as they possibly can..."

 _"And that's my cue to go out to the garden,"_ thought Marcus, irritated by Mrs. Weasley's sudden narrow-mindness. He took a few steps out in the garden and saw a rather pleasing sight.

It was Bill and Charlie, and they were levitating two rather old, battered tables. Grins were evident on their faces, and to Marcus, it meant one thing: They were going to duel each other using the tables.

Rather eager to throw himself in the mix, Marcus ran to the tables as the two of them were getting ready to clash and, just as they were about to collide, Marcus was able to get inbetween the two tables.

He raised his armguards to intercept the tables, and he was able to take Bill and Charlie by surprise.

"Mind if I cut in?" he said with a grin on his face.

He saw that Bill and Charlie sported grins of their own again before they brought their tables back and, suddenly, brought them down on Marcus.

Marcus saw Charlie's table come in first, and at his legs, nonetheless. However, he also saw Bill's table following in very close behind, and coming at his head. To counter both, Marcus did a side twirl jump, causing both to miss.

It was all very fast from that point. For Marcus, this was rather easy to keep up with, as his training allowed him to pick up the slightest movements in a rather short amount of time. The tables would sweep from overhead, sneak from behind, or try to take his legs out from other. Marcus simply deflected their attempts away with his armguards and dodged out of any that he couldn't deflect.

All of a sudden, Marcus was grabbing the edges of both of the tables, ready to counterstrike when he heard an annoyingly familiar voice bellow out, "Will you keep it down?!"

Marcus looked up to see Percy sticking himself out the window with an angry look on his face. Marcus scowled to himself, thinking, _"Leave to it Percy to ruin all the fun!"_

"Sorry, Perce," said Bill, grinning. "How're the cauldron bottoms coming on?"

"Very badly," said Percy peevishly, and he slammed the window shut. Chuckling, Bill and Charlie directed the tables safely onto the grass, end to end, fixed the damage they sustained in the skirmish. Then, with a flick of his wand, Bill conjured tableclothes out of nowhere.

"Nice to see that you're keeping up with your training, son," said another familiar voice.

Marcus looked to see his parents standing in the garden.

"Mom! Dad!" said Marcus. "When did you guys get here?"

"About the time you started the skirmish with Bill and Charlie," said Michael.

"You were looking quite agile out there, Marcus," said Brynn with a smile on her face.

"Yeah, I was," said Marcus, who had a look of confusion on his face.

"Something wrong?" his father asked.

"No, nothing," Marcus quickly said. "I'm going to go help get everything together."

By six o'clock, the two tables were groaning under dishes and dishes of Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking, and the nine Weasleys, the three Williams, Harry, and Hermione were settling themselves down to eat beneath a clear, deep-blue sky. Marcus had always been a big fan of Mrs. Weasley's cooking, aspiring to be just as good of a cook as her one day, and tonight was no exception, helping himself to a good portion of lean chicken, salad, and a couple of boiled potatoes.

While he was collecting his food, Marcus could hear Percy telling Mr. Weasley and his father all about his report on cauldron bottoms.

"I've told Mr. Crouch that I'll have it ready by Tuesday," Percy was saying pompously. "That's a bit sooner than he expected it, but I like to keep on top of things. I think he'll be grateful I've done it in good time, I mean, it's extremely busy in our department just now, what with all the arrangements for the World Cup."

"All of the departments in the Ministry are feeling the weight of that task," said Michael. "We just got done escorting the U.S. Team to the Leaky Cauldron, and that was right after escorting the Bulgaria Team, too. Luckily, Shacklebolt is overseeing tonight's tasks for the World Cup site, as another night there would drive me overboard."

"I know exactly what you mean, Mr. Williams," said Percy. "Although, it's a bit disappointing that we're not getting the support needed from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ludo Bagman -"

"I like Ludo," said Mr. Weasley mildly. "He was the the one who got us such good tickets for the Cup. I did him a bit of a favor: His brother, Otto, got into a spot of trouble -"

"Wasn't that the incident that had the lawnmower with unnatural powers?" asked Brynn.

"Oh, yes, it was," responded Mr. Weasley. "Of course, I smoothed the whole thing over."

"Oh, Bagman's _likeable_ enough, of course," said Percy dismissively, "but how he ever got to be Head of Department...when I compare him to Mr. Crouch! I can't see Mr. Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what's happened to them. You realize Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? Went on holiday to Albania and never came back?"

"Yes, I was asking Ludo about that," said Mr. Weasley, frowning. "He says Bertha's gotten lost plenty of times before now - though I must say, if it was someone in my department, I'd be worried. Michael, have you talked to Ludo about the matter?"

"I tried to," said Michael. "I've told him that I could send one of my Auror trainees out to find her. Of course, he just dismissed the matter, saying she'll turn up eventually. And, as I can't send someone to find her without the Department Head's authorization, in this case Ludo, my hands are tied."

"I'm not exactly sure it's worth fretting over, Mr. Williams," said Percy. "I mean, she's practically _hopeless_. I hear she's been shunned from department to department for years, much more trouble than she's worth...but all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. Mr. Crouch was quite fond of her - but, like Mr. Williams already said, Bagman just keeps laughing and saying she probably misread the map and ended up in Australia instead of Albania. However" - Percy heaved an impressive sigh and took a deep swig of elderflower wine - "we've got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. As you know, we've got another big event to organize right after the World Cup."

Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked down toward the end of the table where Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting. " _You_ know the one I'm talking about, Father, Mr. and Mrs. Williams." Percy raised his voice slightly. "The top-secret one."

"Yes, and I'd appreciate it if it was kept that way, Percy," said Michael in a rather stern voice.

Marcus, hoping that Percy would slip up, sighed in disappointment.

Ron, however, rolled his eyes and muttered to Marcus, Harry, and Hermione, "He's been trying to get us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably an exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons."

 _"I don't think that's it at all_ , _"_ thought Marcus. He didn't hear what exactly was going to happen after the World Cup, as his Mom and Dad were keeping unusually quiet about it, but whatever it was, it was huge.

Marcus then diverted his attention to a different part of the table, where he saw Mrs. Weasley arguing with Bill about his earring, which seemed to be a recent acquisition.

"...with a horrible great fang on it. Really, Bill, what do they say at the bank?"

"Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure," said Bill patiently.

"And your hair's getting silly, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, fingering her wand lovingly. "I wish you'd let me give it a trim..."

"I like it," said Ginny, who was sitting beside Bill. "You're so old-fashioned, Mum. Anyway, it's nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore's..."

Next to Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, and Charlie were all talking about spiritedly about the World Cup.

"It's got to be the U.S. All-Stars," said Charlie thickly, through a mouthful of potato. "They won against Ireland in the semifinals."

"Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though," said Fred.

"Krum's one decent player, U.S. has got seven," said Charlie shortly. "I wish England had got through. That was embarassing, that was."

"What happened?" said Harry eagerly.

"Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten," said Charlie gloomily. "Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg."

After eating their homemade strawberry ice cream by candlelight, Marcus heard his Mom say, "Oh, goodness! In all this eating and conversing, I almost forgot why Michael and I came tonight."

"And that would be?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"I was going to tell Marcus _that_ story."

Marcus turned his head down the table in excitement and said, "Is it truly time for that story?!"

"Yes, Marcus," said Brynn, who turned to Mrs. Weasley and stated, "In the States, every boy who turns 14 gets told a particular story, as a way of introducing the next stage of their life. It's tradition."

"And what's the story?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Merlin's Last Act."

Everyone, besides the adults, turned their head in excitement. Merlin was nothing short of a timeless legend, and to hear the tale of his last act was virtually unheard of, at least in the UK.

"But, I forgot we still have to clean up," said Brynn, looking over the table and it's many dishes. "We'll have to take care of this before -"

What happened next defied all explanation: Before Marcus knew it, all of the boys grabbed the dishes, magicked away the cloth, put the tables away, and had cleaned the dishes in ten minutes flat.

"Well, I guess everyone wants to listen, too," said Brynn, who had a smile on her face.

Almost instinctual, while Brynn took a seat in a chair, all of the underage witches and wizards took a seat on the cloth situated on the ground in front of Brynn.

Brynn cleared her throat and began the story.

"Back in the age of Merlin, everything prospered, so long as Merlin himself was able to guide King Arthur in being a righteous King. King Arthur, with his mighty sword Excalibur by his side, rid England and her neighboring countries of all war and peace was regained. This made Merlin happy, for he could remember how hard it was to be a wizard during Uther Pendragon's reign, being mercilessly hunted. However, in the midst of this peace, it made Merlin relax far too much and he did not expect what happened next."

She paused for a second, which was just enough time for Fred to ask, "What happened next, Mrs. Williams?"

"The kingdom of Camelot was attacked. And the instigator was none other than Morgan Le Fey, Merlin's most dangerous adversary. The attack was quick and precise, and it took King Arthur and Merlin everything they had to ward off the attack. Then, after the attack, Morgan Le Fey issued him a challenge between her and him, in the sacred fields of Evermore, an isolated location on the edges of King Arthur's realm."

Brynn took a deep breath before continuing.

"Up to this point, Merlin had avoided facing Morgan Le Fey, not because he couldn't defeat her, but because of the possible adverse effects facing her would bring upon the countryside. But, at this point, he could avoid her no longer."

"With his staff in hand, he met Morgan Le Fey on the fields of Evermore, the ominous black clouds flashing with lightning and rolling with thunder to herald the upcoming battle. Merlin had advised anyone living within 100 miles of the fields of Evermore to leave their homes and seek refuge in any nearby towns, for he feared that anyone that was caught in the crossfire would surely die. He was not wrong."

"What do you mean, Mrs. Williams?" asked Ginny.

"The fields of Evermore were thrown into chaos," responded Brynn. "The elements were flying around them, numerous flashes of light could be seen, even from the high walls of castle Camelot. Fearing the safety of his advisor and best friend, King Arthur mounted his steed, Llamrei, and rode towards the fields of Evermore. On his final approach, a blinding light had shone forth, which seemed to only scare King Arthur more. By the time he had arrived, he knew for a fact that he was too late."

"What do you mean, Mrs. Williams?" asked Harry.

"When he arrived at the site of the battle, two massive black spots could be seen as well as a note on a piece of parchment," explained Brynn. "When he picked up the piece of parchment, only one sentence was written on it: 'Love will be the deciding factor.' With message in hand and a heavy heart, he rode back to Camelot, knowing that Merlin sacrificed himself to defeat Morgan Le Fey. Upon his arrival, he gathered his Knights of the Round Table and told them that he was going to take Guinevere and travel east. He was never seen again from that point on."

All of the underage wizards gasped in awe over the story.

"This event also marks another significant point in history," said Brynn. "Can anyone tell me what that event is?"

To no one's surprise, Hermione raised her hand in the air.

"It was the last time that The Light Sage and The Dark Sage were confirmed to be in the Wizarding World and have fought one another," Hermione stated.

All of the underage wizards looked at her and said, "WHAT?!"

"You mean none of you know about that?!" Hermione said in surprise. "I thought all magic folk knew about them. Up until Merlin's time, they were the most powerful and prominent figureheads of the Wizarding World. Capable of performing miracles, they would inhabit themselves in chosen vessels, humans. The last vessels were Merlin, who was the vessel for the Sage of Light, and Morgan Le Fey, vessel of the Sage of Darkness. After their battle, however, the Sages disappeared and haven't been seen or identified since."

"Very good, Hermione," said Brynn. "You never know when the Sages may return, however, so you should always do your best in everything you do."

"Well said, Mrs. Williams!" exclaimed Percy pompously. "I daresay I always try to do my best!"

"And that's including the cauldron bottom report?" asked Bill, goading Percy.

"Hey!"

While the adults were conversing with each other, Marcus saw Ron get close to him and Harry and said, "So - _have_ the two of you heard from Sirius?"

While Hermione looked around, listening closely, Harry responded softly, "Yeah, twice. I wrote to him yesterday. He might write back while I'm here."

"I heard from him once," said Marcus, in the same soft voice. "He seems to be safe, nothing to worry about on his end."

"Look at the time," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, checking her wristwatch. "You really should be in bed, the whole lot of you - you'll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup. Harry, if you leave your school list out, I'll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I'm getting everyone else's."

"Actually, Molly, there'll be no need to get Marcus' things," Michael said, "We plan on getting Marcus's Hogwarts things as a family."

"But, Michael, there might not be time after the World Cup," Mrs. Weasley told him. "After all, the match went on for five days last time."

"Wow - hope it does this time!" said Harry enthusiastically.

"Well, I certainly don't," said Percy sactimoniously. "I _shudder_ to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days."

"Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" said Fred.

"That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!" said Percy, going very red in the face. "It was nothing _personal_!"

"It was," Fred whispered to Marcus and Harry as they made their way into the house. "We sent it."

* * *

As Marcus was lying on his makeshift bed in Ron's room, so many thoughts were swirling around his head. As knowledgeable as he was about the Wizarding World, he found himself baffled that he had never heard about the Light and Dark Sages. Then again, they sounded like nothing more than myths, so he didn't hold this in too high of regard.

He also couldn't stop thinking about the Shieldhide dragon. Whenever his mind wandered to this subject, there was a fiery passion within himself. He wanted to find this species of dragon, to find out why they disappeared. But he also felt that it would probably be a mistake to find them. After all, they must've had a good reason why they disappeared.

The thing weighing the heaviest on his mind, however, was the letter he received from Sirius shortly after he got back home from Hogwarts this summer. He was initially glad that he received the letter. But, once he opened the letter, he found himself feeling quite worried.

He rustled his belongings until he found the letter. Then, making sure none of the boys were awake, he took it out and read it again.

 _Marcus,_

 _Things are not looking so good outside of the UK. Other countries are feeling the effects of The Dark Prince's freedom, and it's taking everything they have to hold themselves together. The only country that has yet to be affected is the UK itself, and I fear that something may happen to change this. Enjoy yourself when you go to the Quidditch World Cup, but keep a constant lookout of your surroundings. You may be able to pick up on something that may just save your life. Keep your head up, dear godson._

 _Sirius_

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review, as this always helps me fine tune my writing skills. Or, if you want to ask me something, feel free to leave me a PM and I promise that I'll answer them to the best of my ability. In the meantime, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	6. (06) The World Cup Awaits

**Welcome to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Not much to explain except for...**

 **Disclaimer: No ownership of HP save for OC's.**

 **With that, here's...**

Chapter 6: The World Cup Awaits

 **Enjoy, one and all!**

Marcus Williams was never a big fan of dreams and that night was no exception.

He found himself in Paris again, although it must've been a little bit later than the last time, because he looked at the little girl, who was full of laughter and smiles before, but now had a frown on her face.

"What's wrong," he asked her. He didn't like seeing her like this. She wasn't any fun to be around when she wasn't smiling.

Sitting on the same park bench from before, the Eiffel Tower overlooking them, she said, "I heard from my parents that your parents are making their final move tonight. That means we won't be able to have fun in the park very soon."

"Oh," he said. No wonder she felt sad, he thought.

He forced a smile and said, "Don't worry! We'll still have fun together!"

She looked at him, confused, and said, "How?"

"Well, we might be far apart soon," he told her. "But, we'll still always have fun, as long as we keep it here."

He placed his right hand on his heart. She mimicked the same movement and said, "Here?"

"Yes, there!" he exclaimed. "Our fun will never end as long as we keep our time together in our hearts!"

He then hugged her from behind and said, "And, even if it is years, one day, we will meet again. And, when we do, let's have fun all over again."

He then planted a kiss on her left cheek.

He then took his place on the park bench, looking at the girl, who was blushing very deeply.

"Oh, Mar-kees!" said the girl, still blushing.

As he smiled once more, he suddenly felt himself being pulled into the dark abyss...

* * *

Marcus awoke with a start, sitting up and panting. That was the second time he dreamed of being in Paris when he had no recollection of going there in the first place. It was starting to freak him out.

He looked at the time and knew that Mrs. Weasley was going to come up to the attic at any minute. Forgoing any more sleep, he got dressed in a normal t-shirt, athletic pants, sweatshirt over his t-shirt, and sneakers, grabbed his ticket parchment and made his way down to the kitchen.

Once he did, he saw Mrs. Weasley laying out everyone else's ticket parchments. Mrs. Weasley saw Marcus and said, "I had a feeling you'd be up already. Sit tight in the kitchen for me while I get everyone else up."

Marcus nodded and took a seat, immersing himself in his own thoughts, trying to decipher just what on earth that dream could've meant.

However, his immersion was cut short when the other boys came down the stairs, Mr. Weasley appearing next to him, wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.

"What d'you think?" Mr. Weasley asked Harry anxiously. "We're supposed to go incognito - do I look like a Muggle, Harry?"

"Yeah," said Harry, who was smiling. "Very good."

 _"Yeah, if a Muggle had gone insane_ , _"_ thought Marcus, grateful for his parents making him spend his younger years around Muggles.

"Where're Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?" said George, failing to stifle a huge yawn.

"Well, they're Apparating, aren't they?" said Mrs. Weasley, heaving the large pot over to the table and starting to lade porridge into bowls. "So they can have a bit of a lie-in."

"So they're still in bed?" said Fred grumpily, pulling his bowl of porridge toward him. "Why can't we Apparate too?"

"Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "And where have those girls got to?"

She bustled out of the kitchen and they heard her climbing the stairs.

"You have to pass a test to Apparate?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley, who tucked the tickets safely into the back pocket of his jeans. "The Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people the other day for Apparating without a license. It's not easy, Apparition, and when it's not done properly it can lead to nasty complications. This pair I'm talking about went and splinched themselves."

Marcus winced immediately, having remembered the time he accompanied his dad to an accident in the States and saw one take place before his eyes.

"Er - _splinched_?" said Harry.

"They left half of themselves behind," said Mr. Weasley, now spooning large amounts of treacle onto his porridge. "So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn't move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair old bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles who spotted the body parts they'd left behind..."

"Were they okay?" a startled Harry asked.

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Weasley matter-of-factly. "But they got a heavy fine, and I don't think they'll be trying it again in a hurry. You don't mess around with Apparition. They are plenty of adult wizards who don't bother with it. Prefer brooms - slower, but safer."

"But Bill and Charlie and Percy can all do it?" Harry asked.

"Charlie had to take the test twice," said Fred, grinning. "He failed the first time, Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?"

"Yes, well, he passed the second time," said Mrs. Weasley, marching back into the kitchen amid hearty sniggers.

"Percy only passed two weeks ago," said George. "He's been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can."

Marcus heard footsteps down the passageway and Hermione and Ginny came into the kitchen, both looking pale and drowsy.

"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny said, rubbing her eyes and sitting down at the table.

"We've got a bit of a walk," said Mr. Weasley.

"Walk?" said Harry. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?"

"No, no, that's miles away," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup -"

"George!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, and they all jumped, including Marcus, who instinctively summoned his wand.

"What?" said George, in an innocent tone that would fool no one.

"What is that in your pocket?"

"Nothing!"

"Don't you lie to me!"

Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at George's pocket and said, _"Accio!"_

Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of George's pocket; he made a grab for them but missed, and they sped right into Mrs. Weasley's outstretched hand.

"We told you to destroy them!" said Mrs. Weasley furiously, holding up what were unmistakably more Ton-Tongue Toffees. "We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!"

As Marcus allowed his wand to shoot back up his left sleeve, he found himself looking on a rather unpleasant scene; the twins had evidently been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the house as possible, and it was only by using her Summoning Charm that Mrs. Weasley managed to find them all.

 _"Accio! Accio! Accio!"_ she shouted, and toffees zoomed from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George's jacket and the turn-ups of Fred's jeans.

"We spent six months developing those!" Fred shouted at his mother as she threw the toffees away.

"Oh a fine way to spend six months!" she shrieked. "No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L's!"

Marcus couldn't wait to get on his way to the World Cup, the atmosphere was that intense. Mrs. Weasley was still glowering as she kissed Mr. Weasley on the cheek, though not nearly as much as the twins, who had each hoisted their rucksacks onto their backs and walked out without a word to her.

"Well, have a lovely time," said Mrs. Weasley, "and _behave yourselves,_ " she called after the twins' retreating backs, but the did not look back or answer. "I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along around midday," Mrs. Weasley said to Mr. Weasley, as he, Marcus, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny set off across the dark yard after Fred and George.

Marcus felt the familiar chill of the early morning brisking his face and the light of the moon still bathing him as they walked. The only indication that daybreak was approaching was a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to their right. Marcus was walking alongside Mr. Weasley, but hardly said a word to him. He kept mostly to himself around this time of the day.

Suddenly, he saw Harry approaching the other side of Mr. Weasley and he heard him ask, "So, how _does_ everyone get there without all the Muggles noticing?"

"It's been a massive organizational problem," sighed Mr. Weasley. "The trouble is, about a hundred thousand wizards turn up at the World Cup, and of course, we just haven't got a magical site big enough to accommodate them all. There are places Muggles can't penetrate, but imagine trying to pack a hundred thousand wizards into Diagon Alley or platform nine and three-quarters. So we had to find a nice deserted moor, and set up as many anti-Muggle precautions as possible. The whole Ministry's been working on it for months. First, of course, we have to stagger the arrivals. People with cheaper tickets have to arrive two weeks beforehand. A limited number use Muggle transport, but we can't have too many clogging up their buses and trains - remember, wizards are coming from all over the world. Some Apparate, of course, but we have to set up safe points for them to appear, well away from Muggles. I believe there's a handy wood they're using as the Apparition point. For those who don't want to Apparate, or can't, we use Portkeys. They're objects that are used to transport wizards from one spot to another at a prearranged time. You can do large groups at a time if you need to. There have been two hundred Portkeys placed at strategic points around Britain, and the nearest one to us is up at the top of Staotshead Hill, so that's where we're headed."

Mr. Weasley pointed ahead to a large black mass rising beyond the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.

"What sort of objects are Portkeys?" said Harry in a curious tone.

"Well, they can be anything," said Mr. Weasley. "Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don't go picking them up and playing with them...stuff they'll just think is litter..."

They continued to trudge down the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence only being broken by their own footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as they made their way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. In this eerie quiteness, Marcus was able to pick up on everything, even the creatures stepping on the ground of the nearby forest.

Finally, reaching the base of Stoatshead Hill, Marcus enhanced his vision and made his way up the hill, easily traversing out of the way of rabbit holes and tuffets of grass. He made it to the top of the hill first and had to wait for five minutes for everyone else to join him.

"Whew," panted Mr. Weasley, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. "Well, we've made good time - we've got ten minutes..."

Finally, Hermione came over the crest of the hill, clutching a stitch in her side.

"Now we just need the Portkey," said Mr. Weasley, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. "It won't be big...Come on..."

Marcus, his vision still enhanced, easily spotted the Portkey, an old, decrepit boot sitting at the opposite side of the hill covered in a sky blue aura. He made his way to the boot when he saw two familiar people approaching it.

"Mr. Diggory!" Marcus exclaimed. "Cedric!"

Even though it had only been a couple of days max, Marcus was still really glad to see Cedric.

"How are you doing, Marcus?" Mr. Diggory asked him. "Looking forward to the match?"

"You bet!" Marcus responded with a smirk. "This will be a match to remember!"

"I know!" said Cedric. "U.S. All-Stars vs Bulgaria! Who would've thought it, huh?"

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly!" Marcus exclaimed. "U.S. All-Stars have never faced Bulgaria, not in a few years."

"Say, Marcus, what are they doing over there?" asked Mr. Diggory, pointing to Mr. Weasley and company.

"Oh, crap, they're looking for the Portkey," Marcus stated.

"Well, we can't have them wandering aimlessly," said Mr. Diggory. "Time is of the essence!" He then raised his voice, shouting, "Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it!"

"Amos!" said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to them, everyone else following closely behind.

As Mr. Weasley shook hands with Mr. Diggory, he said, "This is Amos Diggory, everyone. He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at them all.

Everybody said hi back except Fred and George, who merely nodded. This attitude of theirs came as no surprise to Marcus, as they haven't exactly forgiven Cedric for beating Gryffindor in their first Quidditch match last school year.

"Long walk, Arthur?" Mr. Diggory asked.

"Not too bad," said Mr. Weasley. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still...not complaining...Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons - and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy..." Mr. Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. "All these your, Arthur?"

"Oh no, only the redheads," said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. "This is Hermione, friend of Ron's - and Harry, another friend -"

"Merlin's beard," said Mr. Diggory, his eyes widening. "Harry? Harry _Potter_?"

"Er - yeah," said Harry.

Marcus saw the familiar glance-at-Harry's-lightning-shape-scar movement from Mr. Diggory before the man said, "Ced's talked about you, of course. Told us all about playing against you last year...I said to him, I said - Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will... _You beat Harry Potter_!"

Marcus facepalmed himself from the lack of tact Mr. Diggory showed, but he was the only one that openly showed it. Harry remained silent while Fred and George scowled. Cedric looked embarrased, muttering to his dad, "Harry fell off his broom, Dad. I told you...it was an accident..."

"Yes, but _you_ didn't fall off, did you?" roared Amos genially, slapping his son on the back. "Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman...but the best man won, I'm sure Harry'd say the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"

"Must be nearly time," said Mr. Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"

"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," said Mr. Diggory. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of," said Mr. Weasley. "Yes, it's a minute off...We'd better get ready..."

Mr. Weasley looked at Harry and Hermione and said, "You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do -"

With great difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the ten of them crowded around the old boot held out by Mr. Diggory.

Marcus was getting more irritated by the second, having the chill breeze sweeping over the hilltop and past his face, grasping the toe of the boot. The silence was deafening and Marcus was hoping that no Muggles were wandering around here and happened to glance at ten people, two of which were grown men, grabbing an old boot in the middle of the morning, waiting...

"Three..." muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, "two...one..."

It happened suddenly; Marcus felt the unwanted tug on his naval, himself jerking irresistably forward. His feet left the ground, along with everyone else's. He could feel Cedric and Hermione's shoulders banging into his, making the task of holding onto the boot that much more tasking. Speeding foward in a howl of wind and swirling color, Marcus just wanted it to end when -

His feet suddenly slammed into the ground and, before anyone could slam into him, he leaped backwards in the air to avoid the collision that took place. He landed next to Cedric, who looked, alongside Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory, very windswept.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.

 **And that concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Feel free to leave a review, as that always helps me fine tune my skills as a writer. Also, if you wanted to ask me any questions, feel free to leave me a PM and, I promise, I will answer your questions to the best of my ability. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the latest chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	7. (07) A Great Reunion

**Welcome, everyone, to the next chapter of HP: Path of Trials! Before the chapter begins, this must be said...**

 **Disclaimer: Same old song and dance, no ownership of HP save for OC's.**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter 7: A Great Reunion

 **Enjoy, one and all!**

As all of them were getting untangled from each other, Marcus looked at what appeared to be a deserted stretch of a misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, however poorly done: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

"Morning, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beeside him; Marcus could see an old newspaper, an empty drink can, and a punctured football.

"Hello there, Arthur," said Basil wearily. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some...We've been here all night...You'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five-fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite...Weasley...Weasley..." He consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Diggory...second field...ask for Mr. Payne."

"Thanks, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, and he beckoned everyone to follow him.

As they set off across the deserted moor, Marcus walking behind everyone else, he saw that Cedric was joining him.

"I'm really sorry about my dad," said Cedric. "I love him and all, but sometimes, he can be a bit much."

"It's all right, Cedric," said Marcus. "He's proud of you, nothing wrong with that. Though, it would be nice if he had a bit more tact."

"I agree with you there," said Cedric, who then continued, "So, mind if I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Your physical training regimen," Cedric stated. "You keep up with it at Hogwarts, right?"

"Right."

"Which means you found a place in Hogwarts that allows you to do such a thing, correct?"

"Your point is?"

"Well, I want to join you in your workouts."

Marcus looked at Cedric with a sort of amused look on his face. He looked at everyone else to make sure they weren't listening to their conversation and said, "And what would be your reason behind this request?"

"When I helped you with your workouts back when you were staying with Dad and I, it was clear that, even though you're going into your fourth year at Hogwarts, you'd be capable of dueling seventh years and possibly some overage wizards," Cedric stated, a serious look on his face. "And seeing that made me realize that I can't be like most magic folk, who only rely on the magic they cast. If I want to make a difference in the Wizarding World, I've got to push myself in every aspect of my life. And I know you'd be able to help me realize this."

Marcus found himself reminiscing on the time when Lorelei Flamel said the same thing to him. He allowed a smirk and said, "All right, Cedric. I normally do two-a-day workouts, but I believe you should be able to join me and Lorelei Flamel for the evening workouts. We'll learn from each other and make a name for ourselves in the Wizarding World."

"Absolutely," Cedric said with a smile. "Thanks, Marcus."

"Oh, no problem."

Suddenly, Marcus saw a small stone cottage next a gate swimming into view. Marcus could also see, just beyond it, ghostly shapes of hundreds of hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon.

"Looks like this is where we go our separate ways, Cedric," Marcus said, extending his right hand. "See you at the match!"

Cedric shook his hand, said, "See ya, Marcus!" and went with Mr. Diggory towards their campsite.

Marcus approached the cottage door, rejoining everyone else, to see a man standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Marcus knew that this was the only Muggle that he'd see for several acres. When the Muggle heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

"Morning!" said Mr. Weasley brightly.

"Morning," said the Muggle.

"Would you be Mr. Roberts?"

"Aye, I would," said Mr. Roberts. "And who're you?"

"Weasley - two tents, booked a couple of days ago?"

"Aye," said Mr. Roberts, consulting a list tacked o the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"

"That's it," said Mr. Weasley.

"You'll be paying now, then?" said Mr. Roberts.

"Ah - right - certainly -" said Mr. Weasley. Marcus saw Mr. Weasley retreating a short distance from the cottage, beckoning Harry toward him. "Help me, Harry," he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart. "This one's a - a - a ten? Ah yes, I see the little number on it now...So this is a five?"

"A twenty," Harry told him in an undertone voice. Mr. Roberts was trying to catch every word of their banter, and Marcus knew that they had to tread lightly.

"As yes, so it is... I don't know, these little bits of paper..."

"You foreign?" said Mr. Roberts as Mr. Weasley returned with the correct notes.

"Foreign?" repeated Mr. Weasley, puzzled.

"You're not the first one who's had trouble with money," said Mr. Roberts, scrutinizing Mr. Weasley closely. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago."

"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley nervously.

Mr. Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some change.

"Never been this crowded," he said suddenly, looking out over the misty field again. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up..."

"Is that right?" said Mr. Weasley, his hand held out for his change, but Mr. Roberts didn't give it to him.

"Aye," he said thoughtfully. "People from all over. Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdos, you know? There's a bloke walking 'round in a kilt and poncho."

"Shouldn't he?" said Mr. Weasley anxiously.

"It's like some sort of...I dunno...like some sort of rally," said Mr. Roberts. "They all seem to know each other. Like a big party."

 _"Uh oh,"_ thought Marcus, unsure of what was going to happen next.

At that moment, out of nowhere, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Mr. Robert's front door.

 _"Obliviate"_ he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts.

Instantly, Mr. Robert's eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. Marcus recognized the symptoms at once of a person that had their memory modified.

"A map of the campsite for you," Mr. Roberts said placidly to Mr. Weasley. "And your change."

"Thanks very much," said Mr. Weasley.

Marcus sighed in relief as the wizard in plus-fours accompanied them toward the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted: His chin was blue with stubble and there were deep purple shadows under his eyes. Once out of earshot of Mr. Roberts, he muttered to Mr. Weasley," Been having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman's not helping. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur."

He Disapparated.

"I thought Mr. Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports," said Ginny, looking surprised. "He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn't he?"

"He should," said Mr. Weasley, smiling, and leading them through the gates into the campsite, "but Ludo's always been a bit...well... _lax_ about security. You couldn't wish for a more enthusiastic Head of the sports department though. He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And he was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had."

They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most of them looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible. They would've succeeded, had there not been chimneys, bellups, or weather vanes on them. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that Marcus was hardly surprised of Mr. Roberts' suspicions. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a minature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

Marcus found himself disbelieving his surroundings as Mr. Weasley said with a smile, "Always the same. We can't resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us."

They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read WEEZLY.

"Couldn't have a better spot!" said Mr. Weasley happily. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close as we could be." He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders. "Right," he said excitedly, "no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on Muggle land. We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult...Muggles do it all the time...Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"

Marcus was quite certain that Harry had never gone on a camping trip in his life, due to those awful Muggles he lived with. He only gone a few times with his parents himself, as camping was really not something his parents enjoyed doing. However, he, Harry, and Hermione worked out where most of the poles and pegs should go, and though Mr. Weasley was more of a hindrance than a help, because he got thorougly overexcited when it came to using the mallet, they finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-men tents.

As all of them stood back to admire their handiwork, it was quite clear that not a single person would be able to guess that the tents belonged to wizards just by looking at them. Marcus only hoped that there would be more space inside the tent then what it looked like it had.

"We'll be a bit cramped," Mr. Weasley called, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."

Marcus went in behind Mr. Weasley, stood up straight, and was mildly impressed. Inside the tent was what was basically a three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. The only thing odd about the setup was that it reminded Marcus strongly of old Muggle ladies that owned a lot of cats. It even had the same odor, as well.

"Well, it's not for long," said Mr. Weasley, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. "I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago."

Mr. Weasley picked up the dusty kettle and peered inside it. "We'll need water..."

"There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us," said Ron, who had followed Harry inside the tent. "It's on the other side of the field."

"Well, why don't you, Marcus, Harry, and Hermione go and get us some water then" - Mr. Weasley handed over the kettle and a couple of saucepans - "and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?"

"But we've got an oven," said Ron. "Why can't we just -"

"Ron, anti-Muggle security!" said Mr. Weasley, his face shining with anticipation. "When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it!"

After a quick tour of the girls' tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys', though without the smell of cats, Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans.

As the sun was stretching over the horizon, the mist fading away, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around.

Their fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large-pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of salami. As they drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.

" _How_ many times, Kevin? You _don't - touch - Daddy's - wand -_ yecchh!"

She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling with the little boy's yells - "You bust slug! You bust slug!"

A short way further on, they saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls' toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wiard had already spotted them; as he hurried past Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione he muttered distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose -"

Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents are staring to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; other were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn't work. Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged Amercian witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: SALEM ACADEMY. Marcus picked up on numerous conversation in different languages and, while he only knew the French conversations, the tone of every single voice was excited.

"Er - is it my eyes, or has everything gone patriotic?" said Ron.

"It's not just your eyes, Ron," said Marcus, who couldn't help but smirk.

The four of them had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of red, white, and blue objects; realistic pointed stars were abound at just about every tent. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, they heard their names.

"Marcus! Harry! Ron! Hermione!"

It was Seamus Finnigan, their fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own star-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor.

"Like the decorations?" said Seamus, grinning. "The Ministry's not too happy."

"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colors?" said Mrs. Finnigan. "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over _their_ tents. You'll be supporting the U.S. All-Stars, of course?" she added, eyeing Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. While Marcus told Mrs. Finnigan that the U.S. All-Stars would have his full support, the other three only said it out of sheer pressure and being anxious to get away. Once they did, Ron said immediately, "Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot."

"I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents?" said Hermione.

"Let's go and have a look," said Harry, pointing to a large patch of tents upfield, where the Bulgarian flag - white, green, and red - was fluttering in the breeze.

The tents here had not been bedecked with pointed stars, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.

"Krum," said Ron quietly.

"What?" said Hermione.

"Krum!" said Ron. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"

"He looks really grumpy," said Hermione, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.

 _"'Really grumpy'?"_ Ron raised his eyebrows to the heavens. "Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a _genius_ , you wait until tonight, you'll see."

Marcus could tell that a majority of people were awake now, because not only could he hear people talking around him, but also people that he could only surmise were on the other side of the field, as well. He was hoping this mysterious symptom wouldn't kick in today, as it had been on and off all summer, but he figured his luck wouldn't hold.

 _"Dang it, why can't I just tune all these people out?!"_ he thought angrily.

Himself, along with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, joined in with the already small queue of people for the watertap in the corner of the field, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.

"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate's already getting suspicious -"

"I bought this in a Muggle shop," said the old wizard stubbornly. "Muggles wear them."

"Muggle _women_ wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear _these_ ," said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.

"I'm not putting them them on," said old Archie in indignation. "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks."

While Hermione was overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles that she had to walk away, Marcus facepalmed himself, hardly believing the ignorance and lack of common sense of some people.

When the old man named Archie had collected his water and walked away, the four of them had barely started to get water when Marcus heard a voice shout out, "There he is! GET HIM!"

In his continuous attempt to block out the multitude of noise bombarding his hearing, he didn't notice this until too late. He turned around and gave out a small yelp of surprise as two people tackled him from out of nowhere.

He was brought to the ground, but not before Marcus growled and cocked his right fist back in retaliation. However, when he saw who the two people were, he ceased, instead saying in a tone of surprise, "Ben? Jack?!"

Two boys around Marcus' age, kneeling next to him, were grinning from ear to ear, looking awfully akin to Fred and George Weasley. Though they were looking rather stocky, like the Twins, Marcus knew that they weren't really related. Ben usually had blond hair and Jack had black hair, but today they seemed to have dyed it red for Ben and blue with silver stars for Jack, getting in the spirit for the Quidditch World Cup.

"My God, it took forever to find you, Captain!" said Ben, who helped Marcus to his feet.

"And here the team was, getting all frantic that you might not have shown up!" said Jack, dusting Marcus off. "Honestly!"

"Wait, the whole team is here?!" Marcus asked, looking between the two boys.

"Of course the whole team is here, Captain!" Ben exclaimed. "You think we'd miss out on the U.S. All-Stars trouncing Bulgaria?!"

"Of course not," said Marcus, forming a smirk. "How could -"

Marcus then heard a forced cough coming from Ron, and he looked at his friends, who were looking at Marcus with puzzled looks.

"Oh, right!" said Marcus. "Ben, Jack, these are my closest friends. That one's Ron Weasley, the one with the red hair, the young lady is Hermione Granger, the only person smarter than me in my class, and Harry Potter, the awesome Seeker I was talking about at camp."

Immediately, Ben and Jack walked up to Harry and Ben said, "Well, well, the famous Harry Potter! Exciting to meet you at last! Marcus told us that you're talented enough to embarrass the other Seekers at Hogwarts!"

"Well, I'm not sure that's accurate," said Harry, who looked slightly embarrassed.

"Nonsense!" said Jack with a hearty smile. "I'd believe it, especially with that Firebolt you own! Wonder how Ariel would do against him. What do you think, Ben?"

"Ooh, now that'd be an interesting matchup!" said Ben. "It would be pretty close, I think!"

Jack then saw Ron and said, "Greetings, old chap! I see that you naturally came prepared to cheer on the U.S. All-Stars with that red hair."

"Um," Ron started to say.

"Actually, boys, he's cheering for Bulgaria," Marcus stated, intentionally goading Ron.

"Bulgaria?!" said Ben, hardly daring to believe it. "You mean cheering for that ogre, Krum?!"

"I swear, that guy only has the capacity for Quidditch and nothing else," Jack stated.

Ron looked like he wanted to punch the two boys, but then Ben said, "Aw, don't let what we're saying get to ya, Ron. We're all fans of the same sport, after all. Let's enjoy the game, eh?"

Ron put on a forced smile, which satisfied Ben and Jack, who turned their attention to Hermione.

"Well, well, Jack, look who we have here," said Ben, who gave this sort of sheepish look on his face.

"Yes, quite," said Jack, who approached Hermione and said, "Hello, fair lady. I'm Jack, he's Ben. It's nice to meet a well-rounded lady of your calibur." Jack then reached a hand out and said, "May I?"

Hermione, who looked quite flustered, extended her right hand, which Jack gently grapsed and kissed the top of her hand.

Marcus took a quick glance at Ron, who suddenly looked beside himself with anger.

Suddenly, Ben and Jack stood on either side of Marcus and Ben said, "Hope you folks don't mind, but we need to borrow our Quidditch Captain for a few hours."

"You know, catch-up with the others and all that," said Jack.

"Wait," said Marcus. "I'm supposed to help bring back water to the camp. I can't just -"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Hermione quickly said. "Harry and Ron can help me bring it back. You should really catch up with your Quidditch Camp team, Marcus."

"Well, if you're sure -" Marcus began.

"Of course she's sure!" Ben exclaimed. "She knows her stuff!"

"Right!" Jack said. "We'll bring him back to your campsite around lunchtime, for sure! Now, Captain, let's get going!"

As the three of them walked toward the sea of stars and patriotic colors, Marcus asked, "So, how was it that the whole Quidditch Camp Team secured tickets?"

"Oh, that was rather interesting, to say the least," said Ben.

"See, since we all play on the same school house team, it was easy to win the Salem Academy Quidditch Tournament," stated Jack. "Almost no contest, really."

"But, then the school turns around and signs the team up to play in the U.S. tournament, comprised of the best teams of different U.S. Schools of Magic," Ben stated. "A long time, that tournament took."

"You guys participated in the U.S. Schools Tournament?!" Marcus asked, shocked.

"Right-o, Captain!" said Ben, grinning. "Eventually, we get to the finals match after beating the other teams, taking place at Salem Academy. Our opponents were the Los Angelas Phoenixes."

"Oh," Marcus said, grimacing. "That team won the national tournament five years running, right?"

"One and the same," said Jack as the three of them walked into U.S. All-Stars territory. "We knew we would have our work cut out for us, as their Chasers were frontrunner prospects for the U.S. All-Stars themselves."

"But, we knew we had nothing to lose!" said Ben. "So, Peros, Edwards, and Spinnet busted out of the gate and, wow, were they on fire!"

"You mean Alicia Spinnet?!"

"Yes, same one!" exclaimed Ben. "Those three put on their best and hardest moves like it was child's play! The L.A. Phoenixes were getting flustered, and it didn't help any that they were getting plastered by our Bludgers."

"Oh, do you remember the one that blindsided that pretty boy captain in the face?!" said Jack suddenly.

"Ah, yes," said Ben,who closed his eyes, smiling as if the mere thought made him feel serene. "That one will hold a special place in my heart."

"The best thing to happen in that match, however, was Ariel," Jack told Marcus.

"What do you mean?"

"Right after the Snitch was spotted, she tracked it down and grabbed it in five seconds, a U.S. tournament best!"

"Wow!" Marcus exclaimed. "That fast?!"

"Dude, since that camp two years ago, she's been nigh unstoppable," said Ben with a serious face. "Give her another few years, and she could compete with Krum himself!"

"You're kidding?!"

"Definitely not," said Jack. "We're grateful she's on our team."

"Anyway, we beat the L.A. Phoenixes, 300-100, securing the national title and tickets to the World Cup," stated Ben.

"Which brings us here, obviously," said Jack. "Speaking of which -"

He gestured to a circle of tents, all covered with patriotic stars, and Marcus saw that the rest of his Quidditch Camp team was circled around the fire, having breakfast and talking amongst each other.

"Team!" said Ben in a raised voice. "We have found our Captain!"

Immediately, every member of the team looked in their direction and hollared in joy, almost bombrushing Marcus on the spot.

"Finally!" he heard Peros say to him, one of his Chasers, a rather tall boy with sandy brown hair and a gentle smile.

"I told them that you would most definitely be showing up, Marcus," said Edwards, a rather burly boy, but slightly taller than Ben or Jack. "But, they doubted me."

"Wow, this is just amazing!" said Ariel, who had sleek, black hair with a slim body with slightly bigger curves and just exuded confidence. She was no longer the shy, crestfallen Seeker Marcus had at the camp. "All of us are together again!"

Marcus, feeling a sudden wave of deja vu, shook it off and said, "Well, let's sit down by the campfire!"

As the team sat down at the campfire, Marcus looked around and said, "Where's Alicia Spinnet?"

"Oh, she's around here somewhere, catching up with her Hogwarts buddies, I'm sure," said Edwards. "She was beside herself the moment we arrived."

"Well, okay," said Marcus. "You didn't tell me the team won the national title when we were watching the All-Stars beat Ireland, Edwards!"

"That's because the match was a month and a half away at that point," said Edwards.

"Oh, okay," said Marcus. He turned to the rest of the team and said, "How has your studies been, guys?"

"We've been on top of those since day one," said Peros, who must've hit his growth spurt as Marcus didn't remember him being so tall. "Since Salem Academy doesn't allow our marks to go below Excellent for O.W.L.s standards, we've put in just as much studying time as we have time on the Quidditch Field."

"Still doesn't compare to our workouts," said Ariel. "All of us has been keeping in tip-top shape, though I'm sure none of us hold a candle to you, Marcus."

"Says the girl who's been shaming us all," said Ben. "Do you know she's got a toned up six-pack, Marcus?"

"Really?" said Marcus, feeling quite impressed.

"Stop it, Ben, you're embarrassing me," said Ariel, who started to blush.

"Oh, yes, our dear Ariel has caught the eye of many boys," said Edwards. "But, we've been quick to scare them away. Only the best for her, I'd say."

 _"Oh, dear,"_ thought Marcus as he couldn't help but smirk. It was hard to believe that this group became so tight-knit that they thought themselves as family when they nearly quarreled with each other the entire camp two years ago.

"So, what kind of seats did you guys score by winning the national title?" Marcus asked.

At this, every single one of them grinned and pulled out their ticket parchments and Marcus saw they all had -

"Top Box seats?!" said Marcus, astounded.

"Right again, Captain!" said Ben. "And, since we know you're sitting in the Top Box, we'll all get to watch the match in some pretty sweet seats."

"Oh, crap, we haven't gotten our attire on!" said Ariel.

"Holy crap, you're right!" said Edwards. "Marcus, in the guys tent!"

"Wait, what?!" said Marcus, who was suddenly dragged into the guys tent.

Once in there, he took a seat at the dining room table and Edwards said, "Peros, we need to decorate his face! Red on one-half, blue with silver stars on the other!"

"First, however, we need him to put on the patriotic attire!" said Peros, who got out what looked like -

"Is that an exact match to my battle suit?" asked Marcus.

"We asked your dad about the details of your battle to match specifications," said Peros, who got out a white battle suit save for the cloak, which looked exactly like the U.S. Flag.

"Hurry, get this on!" said Edwards.

Once Marcus got the battle suit on, Peros started to paint his face.

"Um, how long -?"

"The paint will last for fourteen hours without smudge, wear, or removal," said Peros. "That'll place it around midnight. After that, then you can wash it off."

"Oh, okay."

By the time they were done, the rest of the Quidditch Camp Team had doned their own attire, all of them with either red, white, or blue hair, with similar face paint, wearing white clothing to match his battle suit, and wearing the U.S. Flag for cloaks.

"You look fantastic, Marcus!" said Edwards.

"And we said we'd have you back to your campsite by lunchtime," said Ben, who looked at his watch and saw that it was 11:15 am. "Team, let's move out!"

They didn't get to take five steps out of the camp when he heard a familiar voice saying, "There you are, young Mr. Williams."

Marcus looked to the source of the voice to find -

"Mr. Booker," said Marcus, who couldn't help but grin. "I was wondering if you'd be here today. The British Ministry of Magic _actually_ gave you permission to run business here?"

"Since I plan on opening a branch on England soil, they figured they'd let me do a trial run," said Mr. Booker with a half-grin. "Business has never been better, my young friend. So many people betting lots of money, it's almost hard to keep track of it all. Speaking of business, let's get down to it."

"I've been waiting for this," said Marcus with a smirk.

"Our usual standards do not apply here, young Mr. Williams," said Mr. Booker. "As this is the biggest Quidditch event in the world, and considering your history with my business, I will accept nothing but the most specific bet from you."

Marcus frowned at this. Up to this point, Mr. Booker was satisfied with his usual bets, merely giving the outcome of who'd win and what the score would be.

However, something happened in that moment that he couldn't explain. He felt calm, much more than he should have and, while he was aware of his surroundings, it was as if no one was near him. The answer, somehow, came to him. He was ready.

"All right, Mr. Booker, you want specifics?" Marcus said. "I'll bet that the U.S. All-Stars will win against Bulgaria, 170-160. Viktor Krum will catch the Snitch, but Percival Braxton will score the first goal of the match."

Mr. Booker gave him a raised eyebrow, but calmly stated, "Those odds are 50 to 1, young Mr. Williams. How many Galleons will you be betting?"

Marcus hefted a sack of Galleons meant only for his bet against Mr. Booker and said, "I bet 200 Galleons."

His teammates gasped in awe.

"Marcus, do you know how much you'd win if you bet becomes true?!" Edwards told Marcus.

"Ten thousand galleons," said Mr. Booker, who cracked a crooked half-smile. "Feeling lucky, young Mr. Williams?"

"I've got nothing to lose," said Marcus, who was feeling quite confident about himself, despite making such a far-fetched bet.

"Indeed," said Mr. Booker, taking the sack of galleons from Marcus. "Should you win your wager, one of my representatives will find you after the match to discuss your winnings."

"I'll be waiting, Mr. Booker," said Marcus, who watched Mr. Booker walk away.

For the next fifteen mintues, walking back to the campsite, his team talked of nothing but all the possible outcomes of the match.

Finally, the team made it back to the campsite, where they were greeted by Fred, George, Ginny, and Mr. Weasley.

"All right, Captain!" said Ben. "We'll all be back here tonight, before we make our way to the match!"

"We'll see you tonight, Marcus!" said Edwards, who took the rest of the team with them back to their own campsite.

"Marcus," said Fred. "You look -"

"Festive?" Marcus asked.

"Wicked!" said Fred and George together.

Not a minute after Marcus returned, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made it back to the campsite with the water they got back at the tap.

"You've been ages," said George.

"Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down. "You haven't gotten the fire started yet?"

"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred.

Mr. Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for the lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.

"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.

"Come here, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly.

At last they got the fire lit, though it was another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while they waited, however. Their tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr. Weasley and Marcus cordially as they passed. Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for Harry's and Hermione's benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested while Marcus wished he could avoid them all.

"That was Cuthburt Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liasion Office...Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now...Hello, Arnie...Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator - member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know...and that's Bode and Croaker...they're Unspeakables..."

"They're what?" asked Harry.

"They're from the Department of Mysteries," stated Marcus. "All of their work is so top secret, not even my Dad knows what goes on there some of the time."

At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them.

"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"

They were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Mr. Weasley jumped to their feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding towards them. "Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"

Ludo Bagman was, bar none, the most noticeable person Marcus had seen so far, and that was with old Archie wearing that flowered nightdress. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to the wayside; the robes in question were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely did not have in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (no doubt, Marcus thought, from a Bludger), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.

"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.

"Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "What a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming...and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements...Not much for me to do!"

Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet in the air.

"Well, hello there, young Marcus Williams!" Mr. Bagman said to Marcus as he shook his hand. "Looking quite festive in that U.S. All-Stars outfit, lad!"

"Thank you, sir," said Marcus. Truth be told, out of all the Ministry officials he knew, Mr. Bagman was one of the very few he actually liked.

"It's thanks to your parents that things are going so well," Mr. Bagman. "A shame I don't have them in my department, it is! Ah, no matter, they do the finest work around!"

Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression.

"Ah - yes," said Mr. Weasley, grinning. "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George, sorry - _that's_ Fred - Bill, Charlie, Ron - my daughter, Ginny - and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry's name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Everyone," Mr. Weasley continued, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets -"

Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.

"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. "I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first - I offered him very nice odds, considering U.S.'s front three are the strongest I've seen in years - and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week-long match."

Marcus, knowing his infamous reputation for gambling, decided to one-up Bagman. He proceeded to sneak over to Fred and whispered instructions in his ears. Fred, grinning from ear-to-ear, whispered it to George while Marcus sneaked back to Bagman's side.

"Oh...go on then," said Mr. Weasley. "Let's see... a Galleon on U.S. to win?"

"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. "Very well, very well...any other takers?"

"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like -"

 _"Three, two, one..."_ thought Marcus.

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that U.S. wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll thrown in a fake wand."

"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that -" Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.

"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"

While Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval, Marcus looked to Fred and George, giving them a thumbs up, the Twins grinned back at him.

"Boys," said under his breath, "I don't want you betting...That's all your savings...Your mother -"

"Don't be such a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly."They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon U.S. will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance...I'll give you excellent odds on that one...We'll add five galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we..."

Mr. Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.

"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away into the front of his robes. Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Mr. Weasley.

"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."

"Mr. Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll..."

"Anyone can speak Troll," said Fred dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt."

Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.

"Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?" Mr. Weasley asked as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside them all.

"Not a dicky bird," said Bagman comfortably. "But she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha...memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. She'll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it's still July."

"You don't think it might be time to send someone to look for her?" Mr. Weasley suggested tentatively as Percy handed Bagman his tea.

"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," said Bagman, his round eyes widening innocently, "As does Michael Williams. But, we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh - talk of the devil! Barty!"

A wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnatually straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were highly polished. It left little wonder why Percy idolized him and Marcus couldn't stand him. Percy was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have passed for a bank manager. Marcus doubted that a single Muggle could've guess that Mr. Crouch was really a wizard.

"Pull up a bit of grass, Barty," said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.

"No thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."

"Oh, is _that_ what they're after?" said Bagman. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."

"Mr. Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a kind of half-bow that made him look like a hunchback. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes - thank you, Weatherby."

Marcus, Fred, and George choked into their own cups. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.

"Oh and I've been wanting a word with you too, Arthur," said Mr. Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr. Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."

Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh.

"I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I've told him once, I've told him a hundred times; Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?"

"I doubt it," said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. "He's desperate to export here."

"Well, they'll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?" said Bagman.

"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle," said Mr. Crouch. "I remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve - but that was before carpets were banned, of course."

He spoke as though he wanted to leave nobody in any dobut that all his ancestors had abided by the law.

"So, been keeping busy, Barty?" said Bagman breezily.

"Fairly," said Mr. Crouch dryly. "Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo."

"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" said Mr. Weasley.

Ludo Bagman looked shocked.

"Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun...Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"

Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman.

"We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details -"

"Oh details!" said Bagman, waving the word away like a cloud of midges. "They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts -"

"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know," said Mr. Crouch sharply, cutting Bagman's remarks short. "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby."

He pushed back his undrunk tea back at Percy and waited for Ludo to rise; Bagman struggled to his feet, swigging down the last of his tea, the gold in his pockets chinking merrily.

"See you all later!" he said. "You'll be up in the Top Box with me - I'm commentating!" He waved, Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" said Fred at once. "What were they talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," said Mr. Weasley, smiling.

"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," said Percy stiffly. "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."

"Oh shut up, Weatherby," said Marcus and Fred at the same time.

A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretense disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.

As Marcus' Quidditch Camp Team rejoined him at the campsite, Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes - blue for U.S., red for Bulgaria - which were squealing the names of the players, pointed patriotic hats bedecked with dancing pointed stars, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

"Been saving my pocket money all summer for this," Ron told Harry and Marcus as they and Hermione strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs. Though Ron purchased a dancing pointed star hat and a large blue rosette, he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked backward and forward over Ron's hand, scowling up at the blue rosette above him.

Marcus, having no need to buy any U.S. All-Star attire, saw a piling cart of brass binoculars. Upon recognizing them, he said, "Team, over here!"

As his team followed behind him, Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed closely behind with Harry saying, "Wow, look at these!"

"Omnioculars," said the saleswizard eagerly. "You can replay action...slow everything down...and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain - ten Galleons each."

"I'll take nine, please," said Marcus, who took each Omniocular to a member of his team, made sure to pocket one, and then proceeded to give the last two to Fred and George. He also bought the Twins dancing pointed star hats and blue rosettes, as he sort of felt bad that he convinced them to gamble their savings.

Everyone's money bags were much lighter as the giant group went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting blue rosettes too, and Mr. Weasley was carrying a U.S. Flag.

Finally, after waiting all day for it, a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, white and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"

* * *

As the gong resonated in the air, the man was ready to watch the Quidditch World Cup when, suddenly, he felt his right shoulder burn, which could only mean one thing -

"Darling, can you take our son outside the tent for a bit?" the man asked his wife. "I won't be long, I promise."

She nodded, taking their son outside. As soon as she crossed the threshold with their son, the man raised the hood of his cloak, pressed the source of the burn on his right shoulder, and knelt down on his right knee.

In a couple of seconds, he felt the inside of his tent go dark, as if light didn't exist. He heard a _whoosh_ , and before him stood a man with slightly feathered black hair with slightly curled bangs at the roots, standing six foot seven inches, wearing a black suit with a white tie with a black cloak over the suit, staring down at the hooded man with intense, red eyes was The Dark Prince.

The Dark Prince flicked his wand a few times in the time it took for the man to blink, after which the Dark Prince said in his semi-deep, confident voice, "Rise."

The man stood on his feet and the Dark Prince said, "Report, servant."

"All that are involved are in place, my Prince," said the man. "We can begin at anytime."

"Good," said the Dark Prince, though his face did not convey any satisfaction. He removed a small roll of parchment from his cloak, handed it to his servant, and said, "Take this scroll, servant. Open it, read it, memorize it as if your life hangs in the balance, then relay these set of tasks to the members involved."

The man did what he was told. As he finished reading the contents, he said, "My Prince, wouldn't it be more prudent to -"

Before the man could finish, the Dark Prince raised his left hand so that it was level with the man's face. One second, it was merely his left hand. The next second, it was engulfed with Dark Energy, swimming around the hand, flickering like a fire. There was a sort of otherworldly feel to this energy, which sent a shiver up the man's spine.

"You dare questions the choices I have made for you, servant?" the Dark Prince in a dangerous tone.

"No, my Prince!" the man hurriedly said. "Forgive me!"

The Dark Prince put his Dark Energy covered hand closer to the man, putting the man closer and closer on edge.

However, the Dark Energy dissipated, and the Dark Prince said, "I've learned that, if left to your own devices, plans have a way of falling apart. Stick to what I've told you to do, and you'll be able to keep your status. Understand, servant?"

"Understood, my Prince," said the man.

The Dark Prince then started to swirl within the darkness and left the man with a single sentence: "Do not fail me, servant, unless you wish to deal with my wrath."

Once the Dark Prince was gone, the man lowered his hood and left the tent, all too aware of his task at hand...

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Feel free to leave this story a review, as this always helps me refine my abilities as a writer. If you want to ask me any questions, feel free to leave me a PM and, I promise, I will answer them to the best of my abilities. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next exciting chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	8. (08) Quidditch World Cup Final!

**Welcome, one and all, to the next exciting chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Considering I had a great many issues trying to post the last chapter, and subsequently making you all wait a couple more days than planned, I decided to make up for it by posting this chapter earlier than planned! Before we can begin, however...**

 **Disclaimer: No...ownership...at...all...save for OC's.**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter 8: World Cup Match Commence! U.S. All-Stars vs Bulgaria!

 **Enjoy, everyone!**

As his Quidditch Team was getting ready in the locker rooms, Percival Braxton was thinking of ways his team could beat Bulgaria. He wasn't worried about their Chasers, their Beaters, and certainly not their Keeper. In his mind, their Keeper was one of the weakest Keepers in the whole tournament. The problem was their prodigy of a Seeker, Viktor Krum.

Everyone knew that the reason Bulgaria made it to the finals of the tournament in the first place was because of Viktor Krum. Braxton knew that, to win this match, they would have to shut him down. But how?

"We've had some good times, haven't we, Harley?" said Jasper, one of his Chasers.

"Yeah, we have," said Harley, his other Chaser. "Remember the last Quidditch Camp we hosted?"

"Yes, and wee little Williams was the Captain of one of the teams," said Jasper with a smile. "Now, that was quite the match for kids their age."

It suddenly clicked for Braxton.

"YES!" said Braxton. "THAT'S IT!"

The team looked at Braxton, who they knew was in deep concentration, and Jasper said, "Um, Captain, are you feeling all right?"

"Team!" Braxton called out. "Gather 'round!"

He brought the whiteboard towards him as the team gathered together.

"I've figured out how we can win against Bulgaria!"

"You have?" said Force, the team's Seeker. "Braxton, their Seeker is phenomenal! No team has been able to shut him down!"

"No other team has implemented the strategy we're about to," said Braxton with a grin.

He then spent a minute drawing figures on the board, after which, he said, "And thank to Marcus Williams, we're going to win this match!"

The team looked at him, confused.

"Here's how it's going to work," said Braxton, pointing to the whiteboard. "Our goal is to get enough points on the board so that catching the Snitch won't matter. To do this, we have got to utilize the Bludgers at every single opportunity to shut down their Chasers. Jasper, Harley, we're going to use the most basic of moves first, then send them into disarray with our advanced moves. Ignatius, keep doing what you've been doing this whole tournament, and you'll be fine. If all goes as planned, you should hardly see any action. Force, if you are unable to catch the Snitch, you do what it takes to hold off Krum enough so that we can get those points on the board."

"Is this what I think it is?" said Ignatius with his deep voice.

"Team, we're going to implement 'The White Spear' strategy," said Braxton with a grin.

The rest of the team looked to each other, grins on their faces, and the team said, "This'll work wonders!"

"Hear that, Tyrone," said Tyler with a mischevious grin. "This match is going to be determined by us!"

"About time we got some serious action!" said Tyrone with the same grin. "I've been looking forward to blindsiding some people all tournament!"

"Team, to the tunnel!" said Braxton.

As they made their way to the tunnel, Braxton hadn't felt more confident about a match in his entire career than in that moment...

* * *

Clutching their purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, they all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; Marcus couldn't stop grinning. They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though Marcus could only see a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, he could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley, spotting the awestruck looks on the young kids' faces. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again...bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. Mr. Weasley's party kept climbing, and at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a decent size box, set at the highest point of and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About thirty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and Marcus, taking a seat inbetween his Quidditch teammates, looked down upon a scene the likes of which he rarely seen.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Marcus' eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Marcus saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

 _The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family - safe, reliable, and the Built-in Anti-Burglar Buzzer...Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain!...Gladrags Wizardwear - London, Paris, Hogsmeade..._

Marcus tore his eyes away from the sign and looked around him. Aside from his teammates, who were all conversing with each other, and his friends, it was empty, save for a house-elf...an awfully familiar house-elf whose face was turned away from him...

 _"What the crap is Blinky doing here?!"_ thought Marcus. _"If my father summoned him here without my permission..."_

He got out of his seat, made his way over to the house elf, and was about to tell him off when he heard Harry say in an incredulous voice, " _Dobby?"_

The tiny creature looked up and stretched its fingers, revealing enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large tomoato. Marcus knew at once it wasn't Blinky, as his nose was almost human-like, nor was it Dobby, whom Harry set free from the Malfoys, but it was unmistakably a house-elf.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" squeaked the elf curiously from between its fingers. Its voice was higher even than Dobby's and much higher than Blinky's, this elf's voice being a teeny, quivering squeak, and Marcus suspected that this elf might just be female, though it was incredibly difficult to tell just by looking. Ron and Hermione spun around in their seats to look. Though they had heard a lot about Dobby from Harry and Marcus, they had never actually met him. Even Mr. Weasley looked around in interest.

"Sorry," Marcus heard Harry say to the elf, "I just thought you were someone I knew."

"But I know Dobby too, sir!" squeaked the elf. She was shielding her face, as though blinded by light, thought the Top Box was not brightly lit. "My name is Winky, sir - and you, sir -" Her dark brown eyes widened to the size of side plates as they rested upon Harry's scar. "You is surely Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry.

"But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" she said, lowering her hands very slightly and looking awestruck. In doing this, she saw Marcus and squeaked, "You is Marcus Williams, sir! You is B-"

"Someone who you haven't met before, I see," said Marcus, projecting his voice just enough to make Winky's voice unheard. He knew Winky was about to mention the fact that he was Blinky's master, and he didn't want everyone to know.

"Um, right, sir," said Winky, who must've realized his mistake and corrected himself.

"How is he?" said Harry. "How's freedom suiting him?"

"Ah, sir," said Winky, shaking her head, "ah sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free."

"Why?" said Harry. "What's wrong with him?"

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir," said Winky sadly. "Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir."

"Why not?" said Harry.

Winky lowered her voice by a half-octave and whispered, _"He is wanting paying for his work, sir."_

"Paying?" said Harry blankly. "Well - why shouldn't he be paid?"

Winky looked quite horrified at the idea and closed her fingers slightly so that her face was half-hidden again.

"House-elves is not paid, sir!" she said in a muffled squeak. "No, no, no, I say to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir what is unbecmoing to a house-efl. You goes racketing around this, Dobby, I says, and next thign I hear you's up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common goblin."

"Well, it's about time he had a bit of fun," said Harry.

"House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry Potter," said Winky firmly, from behind her hands. "House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter" - she glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped - "but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir."

"Why's he sent you up here, if he knows you don't like heights?" said Harry, frowning.

"Master - master wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He is very busy," said Winky, tilting her head toward the empty space beside her. "Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, Harry Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf."

She gave the edge of the box another frightened look and closed her eyes completely again. Marcus saw Harry to himself, Ron, and Hermione.

"So that's a house-elf?" Ron muttered. "Weird things, aren't they?"

"Dobby was weirder," said Harry fervently.

Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing them, staring down into the crowd on the other side of the stadium.

"Wild!" he said, twiddling the replay knob on the side. "I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again...and again...and again..."

Hermione, meanwhile, was skimming eagerly through her velvet covered, tasseled program.

"'A display from the team mascots will precede the match'," she read aloud.

"Oh that always worth watching," said Mr. Weasley. "National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."

"Oh, Marcus, do you think _they_ will show?" said Ariel from her seat.

Marcus' eyes grew wide and said, "Oh, I sure hope so! That would be so awesome!"

"If what shows?" asked Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"I won't say," said Marcus. "I don't want to jinx it."

The box filled gradually around them over the next half hour. Mr. Weasley kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Marcus and Harry, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like old friends. They had met before, and Fudge shook the boys hands in a fatherly fashion, asked how they were, and introduced them to the wizards on either side of him.

"Harry Potter and Marcus Williams, you know," he told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English. " _Harry Potter, Marcus Williams_... oh come on now, you know who they are...the boy who survived You-Know-Who and the boy who defeated the Dark Prince...you _do_ know who they are -"

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and Marcus' white hair and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at them.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to Marcus and Harry. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat...Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places...ah, and here's Lucius!"

Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned quickly. Edging along the second row to three of five still empty seats left in the Top Box were none other than Dobby the house-elf's former owners: Lucius Malfoy; his son, Draco, and a woman Marcus knew was Mrs. Malfoy.

Harry and Draco Malfoy had been enemies ever since their very first journey to Hogwarts, though that didn't stop Marcus from confronting Malfoy from time to time. A pale boy with a pointed face and white-blond hair, Draco greatly resembled his father. His mother was blonde too; tall and slim, she would have been nice-looking if she hadn't been wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty smell under her nose.

"Ah, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk - Obalonsk - Mr. - well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying, so never mind. And let's see who else - you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

It was a tense moment. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy looked at each other, making Marcus recall the last time these two men had come face-to-face, which was when they were brawling in the middle of Flourish and Blotts. Mr. Malfoy's cold gray eyes swept over Mr. Weasley, and then up and down the row.

"Good lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Fudge, who wasn't listening, said, "Lucius has just given a _very_ generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How - how nice," said Mr. Weasley, with a very strained smile.

Marcus, who wasn't going to let Mr. Malfoy have the last word, said, "Nice to see that you're throwing around your weight in gold, Mr. Malfoy." He then softly said, "Your weight in gold and nothing else worth of value."

"Why you -" Mr. Malfoy started to say.

"Marcus Williams, keep your comments to yourself," said a very familiar voice.

Everyone turned around and saw Michael and Brynn Williams making their way into the box.

"Michael, there you are!" said Fudge. "Glad you could make it!"

"The same," said Michael. "Marcus, don't speak out of order like that, understand?"

"Yes, father," said Marcus.

"Even if it is true," Michael remarked in an undertone.

"Are you -" Mr. Malfoy began.

"You should really take your seat, Lucius," said Michael, staring him down. "You're causing quite the scene."

Mr. Malfoy, having lost against Mr. Williams, stared down Hermione who, despite turning pink at the ears, determinedly stared at him back. Marcus knew instantly why Mr. Malfoy's lips were curling the way they were: The Malfoys prided themselves on being purebloods; in other words, they considered anyone of Muggle descent, like Hermione, second-class. However, under the gaze of the Minister of Magic, Mr. Malfoy didn't dare say anything. He nodded sneeringly to Mr. Weasley and to Mr. Williams before continuing down the line to his seats. Draco shot Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione one contemptuous look, then settled himself between his mother and father.

"Slimy gits," Ron muttered as he, Harry, and Hermione turned to face the field again while Marcus took to his seat inbetween Edwards and Ariel.

Marcus heard his father say, "I've been given the green light from all facets of security, Fudge. We're ready to proceed at anytime."

"Excellent, excellent!" said Mr. Fudge, satisfied by Mr. Williams' assurance.

At that moment, Ludo Bagman charged into the box.

"Everyone ready?" he said, his round face gleaming like a great, excited Edam. "Minister - ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said _"Sonorus!"_ and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

"Ladies and gentleman...welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message ( _Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans - A Risk With Every Mouthful!)_ and now showed **BULGARIA: 0, UNITED STATES: 0.**

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce...the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

"I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward in his seat. "Aaah!" He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. " _Veela!"_

"What are veel -?" Harry began to ask.

A hundred veela were then gliding onto the field, and out of nowhere, Marcus' eyes were flooded with energy, causing him great pain, his Negative Vision was all of a sudden present. He was looking at the veela, except they weren't human, like Marcus thought they'd be. They were these nasty, cruel-beaked creatures with wings that only seemed to add to their hideous attributes. Something about these creatures made him want to bombard the field, not out of fatuation, but out of anger, out of rage. As the veela started to dance faster, more wild, a desire to attack these monstrosities fueled him like a oil-induced wildfire.

Marcus emitted a low and dangerous growl, to which he could hear his father say, "Marcus, control yourself."

"These pure-blood veela should be wiped off the planet," Marcus growled through gritted teeth. "How dare they show up here, deceiving the people the way they are. It makes me sick!"

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from attacking them if he continued to look at the veela, he turned toward his friends and saw that all of the guys had this misty-eyed looks on their faces, like they were nothing more than slaves to their will. The guys got themselves into a position to jump and -

"WHAT DO YOU IDIOTS THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" Marcus roared at them.

This jarred the boys back into reality. As the music stopped, his guy teammates, embarrassed, quickly resumed their seats. Harry, meanwhile, had a confused look on his face, most likely wondering how he managed to put a leg on the edge of the box, while Ron was frozen in an attitude that looked as though he were about to dive from a springboard.

Angry yells were filling the stadium, no doubt their protest of the veela's departure.

Marcus, however, was quite pleased that they were leaving. "Good riddance to them!"

He looked over to Ron, who was inadvertenly about to shred apart his pointed star hat. Mr. Weasley, smiling slightly, leaned over to Ron and tugged the hat out of his hands.

"You'll be wanting that," he said, "once the U.S. have had their say."

"Huh?" said Ron, staring openmouthed at the veela, who had now lined up along one side of the field.

As Hermione made a loud tutting noise, Marcus told Harry, "Harry, for goodness sake, take a seat!"

As Harry sat down, Hermione looked at Marcus in confusion and said, "Marcus, are you going to be okay?"

Marcus, who was taking deep breaths, said, "I will be."

Just as he finished calming down, Ludo Bagman's voice roared, "And now, kindly put your wands in the air...for the U.S. National Team Mascots!"

"Oh, I'm hoping they show!" said Peros.

"Oh, please show, please show, please show," said Ariel.

Even Marcus was saying, "Come on, please show!"

Suddenly, seven large, golden, five-pointed stars came down from the sky, swooping the upper edges of the golden stadium, looking down on the people. The U.S. fans roared in excitement, and Marcus' teammates were no exception.

"YES, YES, THEY SHOWED UP!" shouted Peros.

"ALL RIGHT! WHAT A TREAT!" shouted Ben and Jack in unison.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!" Ariel shrieked. "THEY'RE SO BEAUTIFUL!"

Hermione lowered herself to reach Marcus' ears and said, "What is everyone freaking out about?"

"These pointed star creatures are called Star Men!" shouted Marcus, his excitement evident. "Eons ago, they descended from the cosmos into what is now known as the United States! They're almost never seen and they're highly sought after! Each Star Man is able to grant one wish!"

"Blimey!" said Ron. "Grant an actual wish?!"

"Yes!" said Marcus. "Watch!"

The seven star men, standing upright with two black oval eyes on their bodies, raised their arms and, suddenly, a patriotic meteor shower zoomed overhead the stadium. As each patriotic meteor zoomed by, particles of stardust descended onto the stadium. As it got close enough to the people, it materialized into Galleons that dropped into the seats across the stadium.

"Excellent!" yelled Ron as the Galleons started to fall in the Top Box.

"Amazing! Actual Star Men!" said Mr. Weasley over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.

"There you go," Ron yelled happily to Harry, stuffing a fistful of gold coins in his hands, "for the Omnioculars! Now you've got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!" Ron then turned to Marcus and said, "I see what you mean about the Star Men! This is brilliant!"

"Actually, that wasn't granting them a wish, Ron!" said Ben.

"What?!" said Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"In order to get a single wish granted from a Star Man, they must test you!" Jack yelled.

"Test you?" asked Harry. "How?"

"Well, they say if there is a big enough crowd -" said Peros.

"And the Star Men feel that there are worthy enough people in that crowd -" said Ariel.

"Then the Star Men will give those worthy people -" said Edwards.

Suddenly, the Star Men twirled once, placed their arms so that the points touched the area just below their highest point, and energy came flowing out of the seven star men.

"STAR-CHILDREN!" roared Marcus and his Quidditch Camp Team in unison.

"Quick, everyone!" said Marcus. "Cup your hands and extend them in front of you! If you have been deemed worthy, a Star Child will land on your hands!"

The seven balls of energy flew around the stadium at high speeds. One by one, each ball of energy flew to someone in the crowd, leaving -

"One left!" said Ivan. "Where's it going to go?!"

It happened quicker than Marcus could even see. The last ball of energy went into the Top Box, zoomed around a few times, then rested on his hands.

Before he knew it, the energy disappated to reveal a tiny, silver, five pointed star, stretching his pointed arms, like it just woken up from a nap. The star was no bigger than the palm of his hands.

"Oh, Marcus, you're so lucky!" said Edwards.

"That's a Star Child?!" squealed Hermione. "It's so cute!"

Marcus found himself in awe as the star child looked up at his face.

However, he said, "If it's all right with you, I'll call you Twink."

The little Star Child formed an adorable smile as it leapt up to his hair and sat on the top of his head, no doubt wanting to rest. The Star Men then shrunk to just a little bit bigger than an average human and flew to their side of the Quidditch Field, across from the Veela.

"And now, ladies and gentleman, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team!" roared Bagman. "I give you - Dimitrov!"

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

"Ivanova!"

A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaaand - _Krum_!"

"That's him, that's him!" yelled Ron, following Krum with his Omnioculars. Marcus quickly used his Omnioculars to focus on the Bulgarian Seeker.

Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.

"And now, please greet - the U.S. National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting - Braxton! Jasper! Harley! Powers! Powers! Ignatius! Aaaaaand - _Force_!"

Seven red, white, and blue blurs swept onto the field; Marcus was able to spot each and every one of them through the Omnioculars. He saw the looks on their faces and was surprised that every one of them looked extremely confident. Marcus could only presume that they must've figured out a brilliant strategy.

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a fantastic mustache, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other. Marcus watched through his Omnioculars as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open - four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and (for the briefest of a second) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Braxton! Jasper! Harley! Dimitrov! Back to Harley! Jasper! Braxton! Levski! Braxton again!"

Marcus noticed that the U.S. All-Stars were really playing at their best. They were more than just in unison, it was as if they were all together in body and spirit. The few times they were interrupted by the Bulgarian Chasers, a Bludger would whack them, forcing them to give up the Quaffle.

Then, suddenly, as soon as Braxton got the Quaffle again, he roared up the field, bypassing their Chasers and the Beaters.

"Oh, Marcus, here it comes!" said Edwards.

"I see it, I see it!" said Marcus, pressing his Omnioculars harder against his face.

It was one-on-one, Percival Braxton against Zograf. Sure enough, as soon as Braxton situated himself between the center and right-most goal posts, he started to execute -

"The Cyclone Psych!" yelled the members of the Quidditch Team members.

Zograf stood no chance. He went too far to the right-most goalpost, leaving Braxton an easy shot into the center goalpost.

"BRAXTON SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to the U.S.!"

"All right, that's the way!" said Peros.

"That's Braxton for ya!" said Ariel.

"What?" Harry yelled, looking wildly around through his Omnioculars. "But Levski's got the Quaffle!"

"Harry, if you're not going to watch at normal speed, you're going to miss things!" Hermione shouted to Harry, all the while dancing up and down, waving her arms in the air while Braxton did a lap of honor around the field. From the sidelines, the Star Men raised their arms and released more energy, which went high above the stadium and exploded into a multitude of colored fireworks.

Marcus watched as Braxton, Jasper, and Harley worked flawlessly, executing moves like the Eagle Dive Bomb and the Cannon Fire Drop, which absolutely bamboozled the Bulgarian Chasers and the Keeper. Volkov and Vulchanov, The Bulgarian Beaters, were hardly getting anything in as the Powers Twins kept blasting the Bludgers at the Bulgarian Chasers, who weren't getting much leeway at all. In ten minutes, Jasper and Harley had scored another goal a piece, putting the U.S. All-Stars above Bulgaria thirty to nothing.

The game went even faster than before, but it also got more brutal. Tired of not being able to do anything, Volkov and Vulchanov started to play way more aggressive than they normally would, managing to smack the Bludgers a couple of times. Forced to scatter, this gave Ivanova the chance Bulgaria needed. Ivanova passed the Chasers, somehow got around Ignatius (which Marcus thought was nothing short of a miracle), and scored Bulgaria's first goal.

"Fingers in your ears!" bellowed Mr. Weasley as the veela started to dance in celebration. Marcus needed to do no such thing, as his hatred against them far overpowered any possible effects the veela were producing. Luckily, the dancing didn't last too long. After they stopped, Bulgaria had possession of the Quaffle once again.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova - oh I say!" roared Bagman.

One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Force, plummeted through the center of the Chasers so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. Marcus followed their descent through his Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch could be.

"They're going to crash!" screamed Hermione, who was sitting next to Harry.

She was half-right - at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Force, however, was not as lucky. Try as she might, she couldn't pull up in time, causing her to hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the U.S. seats.

"Fool!" moaned Mr. Weasley. "Krum was feinting!"

"It's time-out!" yelled Bagman's voice, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Penelope Force!"

"She'll be okay, she only got ploughed!" Charlie said reassuringly to Ginny, who was hanging over the side of the box, looking horror-struck. "Which is what Krum was after, of course..."

"I don't get it," said Ariel. "I thought Penelope was smarter than that."

"She is," said Ben. "But, against Krum, she had no choice. She couldn't take the risk of Krum catching the Snitch early."

"I agree with you, Ben," said Marcus. "My guess is that she's trying to hold Krum off. Hmm...let me see something here..."

Marcus surveyed the Quidditch field using his Omnioculars until he found Braxton, who was having a serious talk with the Powers Twins.

"That's weird," said Marcus. "Guys, look at Braxton. Don't you guys find it odd that he's talking to Tyler and Tyrone Powers?"

The rest of the team looked to where Marcus was alluding to, and Edwards said, "You're right! He usually talks to Jasper and Harley! There's something different about the U.S. All-Stars tonight!"

"Yeah, not the usual M.O. at all!" Ben said out loud.

"All right, survey the U.S. All-Stars and let's see if we can figure out what they're doing before the next time there's a stop in play," Marcus told them.

"Yes, sir!" said the team.

At that moment, Force got to her feet, to loud cheer from the patriotic-clad supporters, mounted her Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. Her revival seemed to light a fire under the U.S. All-Stars. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, Braxton, Jasper, and Harley moved with such speed and power that Marcus could hardly believe it.

After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, the U.S. All-Stars had scored another ten goals, making the score one hundred and thirty points to ten and the game was starting to get dirtier.

As Braxton shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under his arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf (most likely tired of getting shamed by him), flew out to meet him. Out of nowhere, Zograf started to cobb Braxton and, while it was over quickly, it enticed the U.S. crowd to scream in rage and forced Mostafa to blow a long, shrilly blast from his whistle.

"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing - excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the roaring spectators. "And - yes, it's a penalty to the U.S.!"

The Star Men, who were starting to glow red from the Bulgarian Keeper's actions, shot out energy to form the words, "HA, HA, HA!" The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again.

As one, the Weasley boys, the boys on Marcus' Quidditch Camp Team, and Harry stuffed their fingers into their ears, but Marcus and Hermione hadn't bothered. Marcus saw Hermione tugging on Harry's arm, and he looked at while she impatiently pulled his fingers out of his ears.

"Look at the referee!" she said, giggling.

Marcus looked down at the field with his Omnioculars and saw a rather strange sight: Hassan Mostafa had landed in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very strangely. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.

"Now, we can't have that!" said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. "Somebody slap the referee!"

A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; Marcus, still watching through the Omnioculars, saw that he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said Bagman's voice. "Now _there's_ something we haven't seen before...Oh, this could turn nasty..."

"Well, at least the referee has the right idea!" shouted Marcus. "Get them off the field!"

Sure enough, Bagman's prediction came true: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the Star Man, who formed an energy hand, waving its index finger like a parent would scold a child. Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

" _Two_ penalties for the U.S.!" shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms...yes...there they go...and Braxton takes the Quaffle..."

Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. It seemed to turn into a Beaters' war in the match, as both sides were starting to act mercilessly: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with the Bludger or human as they swung them violently in the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Jasper, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

 _"Foul!"_ roared the U.S. supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of red, white, and blue.

"Foul!" echoed Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice. "Dimitrov skins Jasper - deliberately flying to collide there - and it's got to be another penalty - yes, there's the whistle!"

One of the Star Men, looking like he was fed up with the Bulgarian Quidditch Team's actions, zoomed very fast across the field and collided into one of the veela, making her collapse onto the ground, and zoomed back to the other Star Men. At this, the veela lost all control of themselves. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves acrosss the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the Star Men. Marcus watched through his Omnioculars as the veela were starting to reveal their true nature...all except one, who just watched the other veela attack the Star Men with a solemn look on her face. While it struck Marcus as odd, he chose to ignore it.

"And _that_ , boys," yelled Mr. Weasley over the tumult of the crowd below, "is why you should never go for looks alone!"

"Hey, Marcus!" yelled Edwards. "I've figured it out! The U.S. All-Stars' strategy!"

"Yeah?" Marcus yelled.

"They're using the Powers Twins to stymie their Chasers and implementing their best moves to further send them into disarray," Edwards explained. "Sound familiar?"

"The White Spear?!" yelled Marcus. "They're using OUR strategy?!"

"Yeah, isn't it awesome?!" yelled Edwards.

"Heck yeah, it is!" yelled Marcus.

Ministry wizards were flooding to separate the veela and the Star Men, but with little success; meanwhile, the pitched battle below was nothing to the one taking place above. Marcus turned in what he felt like all directions as the Quaffle kept changing hands at the speed of a bullet.

"Levski - Dimitrov - Harley - Jasper - Ivanova - Jasper again - Braxton - BRAXTON SCORES!"

But the cheers of the U.S. supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians. The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov -

Marcus saw that Tyler Powers rocketed a Bludger towards Krum with every fiber of his being. Unfortunately, Krum did not duck quickly enough and received the full brunt of the Bludger in the face, nearly knocking him off his broom.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted to which Marcus couldn't blame him; one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

Marcus, despite fully rooting for the U.S. All-Stars, wanted someone to realize that Krum was injured, as he was (much to Marcus' chagrin) the most exciting Seeker he'd ever seen play.

Ron obviously felt the same, for he yelled, "Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him -"

 _"Look at Force!"_ shouted Marcus and Harry at the same time.

For the U.S. Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and Marcus was sure that she had spotted the real thing...

"She's seen the Snitch!" Marcus yelled. "She's seen it! Look at her go!"

Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the U.S. supporters rose in another great wave of red, white, and blue, screaming their Seeker on...but Krum was on her tail. Marcus found it severly impressive Krum could even see where he was going, considering the flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawling level with Force now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again -

"They're going to crash!" Hermione shrieked.

"They're not!" roared Ron.

"Force is!" yelled Harry, Marcus, and the Quidditch Camp Team.

And they were right - for the second time, Force hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" bellowed Charlie, along the row.

"He's got it - Krum's got it - it's all over!" Marcus heard Harry shout.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard was flashing **BULGARIA: 160, UNITED STATES: 170** across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the U.S. supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

"U.S. WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the U.S. supporters, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT U.S. WINS - good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

While Twink was happily flying all around the Quidditch Camp Team, Marcus and the team in question were going bonkers, they were so over the moon with the U.S. All-Stars winning the World Cup.

Ron joined with them, jumping up and down, applauding with his hands over his head, but still bellowed, "What did he catch the Snitch for? He ended it when U.S. were a hundred and sixty point ahead, the idiot!"

"He knew they were never going to catch up!" Harry shouted back over all the noise, also applauding loudly.

"The U.S. Chasers were simply too good, Ron!" Marcus shouted, who composed himself. "Krum wanted to end it on his terms, that's all..."

"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, leaning forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the Star Men and veela to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess..."

Marcus put his Omnioculars to his eyes again. It was hard to see what was happening below, because of the dust the Star Men were delightedly shooting around, but he could just make out Krum, surrounded by mediwizards. He looked surlier than ever and refused to let them mop him up. His team members were around him, shaking their heads and looking dejected; a short way away, the U.S. players were dancing gleefully in a shower of stardust coming from their mascots. Flags were waving all over the stadium, the U.S. national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back to their normal selves, though looking dispirited and forlorn.

"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind Marcus. He turned around to find that the Bulgarian Minister of Magic spoke English.

"You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Vell, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian Minister, shrugging.

"And as the U.S. team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman.

Marcus' eyes were suddenly blinded by a dazzling white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, he saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he'd been using sign language all day for nothing.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted.

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; Marcus could see thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction.

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. Marcus noticed that, not to his surprise, that Krum seemed much less coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered. But when Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, ear-splitting roar.

And then came the U.S. All-Stars. Penelope Force was being supported by Tyler and Tyrone Powers; the second crash seemed to have done a number on her, as her eyes looked strangely unfocused. But she grinned and gave the thumbs up, letting people know she was going to be okay.

Percival Braxton spotted Marcus and shouted with a smile, "Marcus Williams, get over here!"

Marcus, shocked, walked over to Braxton, who said, "It's thanks to your 'White Spear' strategy that we were able to win the Cup, Marcus. As such, you get to hoist the Cup with us!"

Marcus, whose mind wasn't working right, felt sort of dazed himself as him, Braxton, and the rest of the U.S. All-Stars hoisted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval.

At last, when the U.S. All-Stars had left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms (Penelope Force on the back of Renee Harley's, clutching hard around her waist and still grinning in a bemused sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, _"Quietus."_

"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely, "a really unexpected twist, that...shame it couldn't have lasted longer...Ah yes...yes, I owe you...how much?"

For Fred and George, Marcus saw, had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.

 **And this concludes this exciting chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Feel free to leave a review of this story, as this always helps me refine my skills as a writer. Also, if you have any questions that you want to ask me, don't hesitate to leave me a PM and, I promise, I will answer them to the best of my abilities. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	9. (09) A Dark Confrontation

**Welcome, one and all, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Not much to say except...**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own HP, simple as that.**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter Nine: A Dark Confrontation

 **Enjoy, everyone!**

" _Don't_ tell you mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley implored Fred and George as they all made their way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs.

"Don't worry, Dad," said Fred gleefully, "we've got big plans for this money. We don't want it confiscated."

Mr. Weasley looked for a moment as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but seemed to decided, upon reflection, that he didn't want to know.

They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward them on the night air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit path, and stardust kept sprinkling overhead, making it look as if they were walking through a cosmic snowglobe. When they finally reached the tents (and Marcus had said good-bye to his teammates and American friends), they were greeted by a woman blonde hair tied up like a front desk clerk, business robes, and a straight face.

She saw Marcus and bowed slightly, saying, "On behalf of Booker Industries, we'd like to congratulate you on your winnings of ten thousand galleons."

"What the -?!" he heard Mr. Weasley said.

Ron turned to Marcus and said, "How?!"

"I made a very specific bet to Mr. Booker earlier today," Marcus explained. "U.S. All-Stars would win the match, 170-160. Viktor Krum would catch the Snitch and Percival Braxton would score the first goal of the match, 200 Galleons placed on the bet with 50-1 odds."

"Bloody Hell," said Ron. "Remind me _never_ to bet against you, ever."

After telling the businesswoman to deposit the winnings in his Gringotts vault, Mr. Weasley pitched the idea of having a cup of cocoa together before turning, as it was plainly evident that no one was tired in the slightest. Watching over Twink, Marcus watched as everyone started to enjoyably argue about the match; Mr. Weasley got drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it was only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted that everyone go to bed. Hermione and Ginny went into the next tent, and Marcus, Harry, and the rest of the Weasleys changed into pajamas and clambered into their bunks. From the other side of the campsite they could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang.

"Oh I am glad I'm not on duty," muttered Mr. Weasley sleepily. "I wouldn't fancy having to go and tell the Americans they've got to stop celebrating."

Marcus, try as he might to fall asleep, could not. His mind kept wandering, jumping from one event in his life to another, his mysteries swirling around him like mist. What exactly was going on with him and his body, and why had it only started happening this summer? What sorts of new things would happen at Hogwarts, and just how much progress would he make this year? How soon would he be able to train with Lorelei again?

Finally giving up on sleep, Marcus got up, changed out of pajamas and into the U.S. Battle attire his American friends put together for him, and managed to wash the paint off his face.

Marcus started walking toward the exit of the tent when he saw Twink, who originally was resting, flying toward him and sitting on his shoulder, looking at him.

"Sorry, Twink," said Marcus. "I didn't want to disturb you."

Twink then pointed his left arm toward himself.

"Yes, of course you can come with me," said Marcus, smirking. "I would love the company."

Putting his hood up so that no one would spot him, Marcus went through the crowd, weaving in and out of the fanatic witches and wizards. Twink, sensing Marcus' want of anonymity, hid himself in his hood so that he wouldn't bring attention to Marcus.

Marcus didn't know how long he walked, being lost in his own thoughts. All he knew what that, after realizing he was on the outer edge of a clump of forest, he decided to lay his back against a rather large oak.

Twink then emerged from the hood, leaning to the side, all the while looking at Marcus.

He lowered his hood and said, "I'm all right, Twink - or at least, I will be."

Twink then sat on his left shoulder and looked at him.

Marcus sighed and said, "I should be happy, Twink, I really should. This summer has been fantastic. I have friends and family that care about me, I've worked hard to be where I am today, my favorite Quidditch Team won the World Cup."

He looked at Twink and said with a smirk, "The Star Men felt I was worthy enough to have you."

Twink glowed yellow, which Marcus interpreted to be of joy.

Marcus then looked back to the sky and continued, "Though, I've gone through this enough times to know that something's going to happen. I can feel it, Twink. Even among a crowd of magic folk who are drunk off of joy and happiness, I can sense that something's not right. It's the calm before the storm, and now that storm is rolling on in."

Suddenly, he heard a twig snap in front of him.

Marcus lept to his feet, summoned his wand, and pointed it in the direction of the sound, only to find -

"Cedric!" said Marcus, startled. "What are you doing here?!"

"I was going to ask you the same thing!" said Cedric, who sounded just as startled.

"What do you mean?"

"You're on the outer edge of Field Two," stated Cedric. "That's about two and a half miles from your campsite."

"Crap, I walked that far from the campsite?" said Marcus. "Wow, guess I didn't realize."

Cedric then noticed Twink and said, "Is that a Star Child?!"

"Yeah," said Marcus, grinning. "Twink, meet Cedric Diggory. Cedric, this is Twink."

Twink flew around his head a few times and landed back on Marcus' left shoulder.

"Wow, you're so lucky!" said Cedric. "Clearly, the Star Men saw something special about you."

"I'm not entirely sure about that, but -" Marcus started to say.

In that moment, Marcus found his ears, quite suddenly, getting bombarded with all the noises the magic folk around him were making.

"OW!" said Marcus, cupping his ears.

Cedric then hurried to his side and said, "Are you all right?!"

"Nothing to really worry about," said Marcus, though he didn't feel that way. "Just been having ear problems, that's all."

"Should we go and see if someone can help?"

"I'm not sure if -"

Then it happened.

Amongst the multitude of noise Marcus was getting subjected to, he heard a most disturbing sentence.

 _"It's been thirteen years, hasn't it, fellow Death Eaters?"_

Marcus' head, which was looking to the ground, shot up, eyes practically bulging out of his head.

"Marcus, what's wrong?!" Cedric said to him.

However, Marcus didn't hear him. Suddenly, he found himself unable to hear anything else except the following conversation:

 _"Everyone know the plan, then?"_

 _"Of course we do! Cloaked and masked, like we are now, we plow through the campsites, blasting anything in our way!"_

 _"What if we find any filthy Muggles, huh?"_

 _"Ooh, good question! Hey, we can have some fun with them, right?"_

 _"I don't see why not. The more attention we bring to ourselves, the better."_

 _"Right, right, 'all in accordance to your grand plan'. Bah! Let's just go and have some fun!"_

Marcus knew, based on how quiet they were, that they had to be on the other side of the camping area. There was no time to lose.

Marcus looked at Twink and said in a very serious tone, "Twink, find Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Find them, and lead them to the safest part of the nearby woods to them. Stay with them until I meet up with them and do not get caught! Now, go! Please!"

Twink must've understood how serious Marcus was, for Twink took off in the direction of the campsite.

"Marcus, what -"

"Death Eaters!"

"WHAT?!"

"Cedric, lead as many people as you can into the woods!" Marcus practically yelled before taking off.

"WAIT, MARCUS!" bellowed Cedric, but Marcus didn't stop.

He ran. He ran and ran and ran, enhancing his vision to try and pinpoint the Death Eaters. Not fifteen seconds into trying to run towards them did he start to hear it: The screams, the people terrified, bangs and explosions that were potentially harming people.

 _"Damn it, I'm too late!"_ thought Marcus. _"I've got to try and do something before anyone dies!"_

He continued to run, fast as he could go. Finally, after twelve minutes minutes of running, he saw them: A crowd of people, cloaked in pitch black auras, blasting fire in every direction possible, and to Marcus' horror, they were already dangling Muggles in the air.

Marcus went into a state of anger akin to seeing the pure-blood veela in the World Cup match.

 _"Fuck not using magic now!"_ Marcus thought as he summoned his wand, pointed it at his chest, and yelled, " _Eximo!"_

Suddenly, his speed increased five fold, easily covering the remaining gap between him and the Death Eaters.

Once he did, he pointed the wand back on himself and said, "Finite Incantatum!"

Upon releasing the spell, he allowed himself to get more and more angry until, finally, he couldn't stop himself.

He ran around behind the Death Eaters and, going as fast as he could go, punched one of the Death Eaters behind the head.

Before any of the Death Eaters knew what was going on, Marcus broke through to the other side and stopped twenty feet in front of them.

"It was a mistake to show up tonight after all this time in hiding, Death Eaters!" yelled Marcus, barely containing himself. "Now you're going to deal with me!"

"Well, well, if it isn't Marcus Williams!" said a voice, which was distorted to the point of being unrecognizable.

"What an idiot!" cackled a different distorted voice. "Instead of being a good little scaredy cat, like everyone else, he charges at us, falling right into our laps!"

"Enough talking!" yelled a deeper distorted voice. "Get him!"

Marcus, wanting to advance on him, was forced to play defense. So many spells were being shot at him, it was all he could do to block them using his armguards.

Getting pissed that he wasn't getting anywhere, he risked summoning his wand, pointing it at them, and yelled, "INCENDIO!"

A mass of fire came hurtling towards them, but the Death Eaters just laughed and dissipated the fire like it was child's play.

"He wants to play, huh?" said a distorted voice. "All right, then. We'll play!"

Marcus, only seeing it just in time, bent back as far as he could go and saw a great, whoosing green light fly by, only an inch away from his face. He knew he barely escaped that with his life.

He straightened himself out, pointed again, and yelled, " _CONFRINGO!"_

Marcus blasted the ground in front of him, causing the Death Eaters to scramble back from it.

Marcus started to grin and said, "That's all Voldemort's closest allies got?! Pathetic!"

"That's it! He's mine!" yelled a distorted voice.

One of the Death Eaters stepped forward and fired a spell that, while Marcus blocked with his armguards, forced him to careen head over heels.

Marcus quickly got up, only to be blasted by the same spell again, blocking it, but once again forcing to careen head over heels.

Marcus, while still getting to his feet, got up slowly and staggered. He was beat up, he was wiped, and there was little he could do.

The Death Eater facing him blasted the same spell and Marcus embraced for the worst.

"PROTEGO!" yelled a very familiar voice.

The spell made no contact against Marcus, instead slamming into an invisible magical barrier.

Marcus turned his head and saw -

"Cedric?! Why are you here?!"

"Saving you, what do you think it looks like?!"

"Ooh, twice the fun now!" said a disorted voice behind the leading Death Eater.

All of a sudden, another familiar voice shouted, "LUMOS SOLREM!"

A torrence of light shined in the Death Eaters' eyes, blinding them all.

"What the -?!" said Marcus.

He looked behind to find his Dad grabbing him and Cedric, saying, "Hold on!"

He then felt the familiar sensation of being squeezed into a tube and, before he knew it, him and Cedric were in a wooded area.

"Dad, what the -?!" Marcus started to say.

However, Michael didn't have time to speak as he Disapparated, no doubt to face the Death Eaters.

"Marcus, you're hurt!" said Cedric.

"Meh, I'm fine," said Marcus, but he couldn't help but feel that Cedric was more right than he realized.

All of a sudden, without warning, a voice uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell.

" _MORSMORDRE!"_

Out of the darkness, something vast, green, and glittering erupted from an area to Marcus' right; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

"What in the -?!" Cedric started to say.

Marcus saw a gruesome form take shape; An appearance of a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. Marcus and Cedric watched as it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

As the wooded area suddenly erupted with screams, Marcus growled in anger at it. Though this was his first time seeing it in person, there was no doubt what it was from the countless times his parents told him stories from the First Wizarding War: The Dark Mark, Voldemort's calling card, in which it almost always indicate a death (usually murder) has taken place within the direct vicinity.

 _"Another Death Eater is in here?!"_ thought Marcus, who enhanced his vision and looked around.

For a couple of seconds, Marcus locked onto an human outline with pitch black and distortion of blue, swirling around the outline like a vortex.

He only took one step toward the figure when he heard a familiar voice saying, "It's the Dark Mark, Harry!"

Marcus turned his head toward the source of the voice, saying, "Hermione! Harry! Ron!"

Marcus ran as fast as his condition would let him, forcing Cedric to hurry after him. Marcus was only a few feet behind them when he heard a series of popping noises announcing the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding the area.

Marcus, his vision enhanced, saw twenty magic folk with red auras, their wands out and pointing at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Instantly, Marcus yelled, "DUCK!"

As Marcus reached his three friends, he heard twenty voices roaring, " _STUPEFY!"_

Luckily, the majority of the fiery red lights missed them, due to his friends ducking. A couple came close, but Marcus swatted them away using his armguards. However, one jet of red light managed to make contact with him, which almost forced Marcus to lose consciousness. However, he forced himself to get as angry as he could go, using the adrenaline rush to counteract the effect of the spell.

 _"Ugh, the Stunning Spell,"_ thought Marcus. _"I freaking hate this spell."_

"Stop!" yelled another familiar voice, "STOP! _That's my son!"_

Marcus, who was on all fours due to being hit by the Stunning Spell, looked up and saw that the wizard that got close to them lowered his wand. He looked to the right and saw that Mr. Weasley striding towards them, looking terrified.

"Ron - Harry - Marcus -" his voice sounded shaky - "Hermione - are you all right?"

"Out of the way, Arthur," said a cold, curt voice.

As Marcus saw Mr. Crouch approaching them with the other Ministry wizards, he saw Twink landing on his left shoulder, patting his cheek with one of his pointed hands.

"I'll be all right, Twink," said Marcus in a quiet voice. "You did a fantastic job. I'll need you to get inside my hood and keep yourself there until I say so."

Twink did what he was told and, by the time he got inside Marcus' hood, he saw Mr. Crouch standing in front of him, the man's face taut with rage.

"Which of you did it?" he snapped, his sharp eyes darting between them. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

"We didn't do that!" said Harry, gesturing up at the skull.

"We didn't do anything!" said Ron, who was rubbing his elbow and looking indignantly at his father. "What did you want to attack us for?"

"Probably because Mr. Crouch told them to," Marcus growled. "Probably jumped to conclusions like everyone else."

"Do not give me that tone, sir!" shouted Mr. Crouch. His wand was pointed directly at the area between Marcus' eyes, and Mr. Crouch's eyes were popping - he looked slightly mad. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Barty," whispered a witch in a long woolen dressing gown, "they're kids, Barty, they'd never have been able to -"

"This one would!" shouted Mr. Crouch, pointing to Marcus with his free hand. "Don't let his fame fool you for one bit! He's a chip off the old block, mark my words!"

Marcus narrowed his eyes, his right fist clenched, ready to punch him. It didn't help any that Mr. Crouch's wand tip was on the verge of touching his face.

Suddenly, a _pop_ was heard in the air, and a wand was touching Mr. Crouch's right temple.

"Lower your wand or else I will blast your head off from your shoulders," a familiar voice said in such a dark tone it sent that all-too-knowing shiver up Marcus' spine.

Mr. Crouch looked to his right, saw that it was Michael Williams, and said, "You surely don't think -"

"I do," said Michael in the same dark tone. "Now, lower your wand."

Mr. Crouch, very reluctantly, lowered his wand and backed away from Marcus.

Michael then looked at Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione and said, "Where did the Mark come from?"

"Over there, Mr. Williams," said Hermione shakily, pointing at the place where they had heard the voice. "There was someone behind the trees...they shouted words - an incantation -"

"Oh, stood over there, did they?" said Mr. Crouch, turning his popping eyes on Hermione now, disbelief etched all over his face. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy -"

"Enough!" shouted Michael, which shut Mr. Crouch right up.

Marcus looked around and could tell, from the look on their faces, that none of them though that it was remotely likely that Marcus, Harry, Ron, or Hermione had conjured the Dark Mark; on the contrary, at Hermione's words, they had all raised their wands again and were pointing in the direction she had indicated, squinting through the dark trees.

"We're too late," said the witch in the woolen dressing gown, shaking her head. "They'll have Disapparated."

"I don't think so," said a wizard that Marcus recognized to be Mr. Diggory. "Our Stunners went right through those trees...There's a good chance we got them..."

"Amos, be careful!" said a few of the wizards warningly as Mr. Diggory squared his shoulders, raised his wand, marched across the clearing, and disappeared into the darkness. Marcus looked at his father, about to ask him a question, when he saw the look his father was giving him. His eyes were narrowed and his lips were thin, which was only reserved for occassions when Marcus royaly screwed up.

Marcus decided not to say anything as he heard Mr. Diggory shout, "Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's - but - blimey..."

They heard snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and then crunching footsteps as Mr. Diggory reemerged from behind the trees. He was carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms. Marcus instantly recognized the figure wearing the tea towel: It was Winky.

Mr. Crouch did not move or speak as Mr. Diggory deposited his elf on the ground at his feet. The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr. Crouch. For a few seconds Crouch remained transfixed, his eyes blazing in his white face as he stared down at Winky. Then he appeared to come to life again.

"This - cannot - be," he said jerkily. "No-"

He moved quickly around Mr. Diggory and strode off toward the place where he had found Winky.

"No point, Mr. Crouch," Mr. Diggory called after him. "There's no one else there."

But Mr. Crouch did not seem prepared to take his word for it. They could hear him moving around and the rustling of leaves as he pushed the bushes aside, searching.

"Bit embarrassing," Mr. Diggory said grimly, looking down at Winky's unconscious form. "Barty Crouch's house-elf...I mean to say -"

"Come off it, Father," said Cedric, who appeared from behind Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Marcus had completely forgotten that Cedric had gone with him, so it gave him a bit of a start. "You don't seriously think it was the elf?"

"The Dark Mark's a wizard's sign, Amos," Michael told him. "It requires a wand."

"Yeah," said Mr. Diggory," and she _had_ a wand."

 _"What?_ " said Mr. Weasley, Cedric, and Mr. Williams.

"Here, look," Mr. Diggory held up a wand and showed it to them. "Had it in her hand."

"Well, unfortunately, that breaks clause three of the Code of Wand Use," said Michael grimly. " _No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand."_

Just then, there was another _pop_ , and Ludo Bagman Apparated right next to Mr. Weasley. Looking breathless and disoriented, he spun on the spot, goggling upward at the emerald-green skull.

"The Dark Mark!" he panted, almost trampling Winky as he turned inquiringly to his colleagues. "Who did it? Did you get them? Barty! What's going on?"

Mr. Crouch had returned empty-handed. His face was still ghostly white, and his hands and his toothbrush mustache were both twitching.

"Where have you been, Barty?" said Bagman. "Why weren't you at the match? Your elf was saving you a seat too - gulping gargoyles!" Bagman had just noticed Winky lying at his feet. "What happened to _her_?"

"I have been busy, Ludo," said Mr. Crouch, still talking in the same jerky fashion, barely moving his lips. "And my elf has been stunned."

"Stunned? By you lot, you mean? But why -?"

Comprehension dawned suddenly on Bagman's round, shinky face; he looked up at the skull, down at Winky, and then at Mr. Crouch.

" _No!"_ he said. "Winky? Conjure the Dark Mark? She wouldn't know how! She'd need a wand, for a start!"

"And she had one," said Mr. Diggory. "I found her holding one, Ludo. If it's all right with you, Mr. Crouch, I think we should hear what she's got to say for herself."

Crouch gave no sign that he had heard Mr. Diggory, but Mr. Diggory seemed to take his silence for assent. He raised his own wand, pointed it at Winky, and said, " _Ennervate!"_

Winky stirred feebly. Her great brown eyes opened and she blinked several times in a bemused sort of way. Watched by the silent wizards, she raised herself shakily into a sitting position. She caught sight of Mr. Diggory's feet, and slowly, tremulously, raised her eyes to stare up into his face; then, more slowly still, she looked up into the sky. Marcus could see the floating skull reflected twice in her enormous, glassy eyes. She gave a gasp, looked wildly around the crowded clearing, and burst into terrified sobs.

"Elf!" said Mr. Diggory sternly. "Do you know who I am? I'm a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!"

Winky began to rock backward and forward on the ground, her breath coming in sharp bursts.

"As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while ago," said Mr. Diggory. "And you were discovered moments later, right beneath it! An explanation, if you please!"

"I - I - I is not doing it, sir!" Winky gasped. "I is not knowing how, sir!"

"You were found with a wand in your hand!" barked Mr. Diggoy, brandishing it in front of her.

"Hey - that's mine!" Harry said.

Marcus looked back at him with a confused look.

"Excuse me?" said Mr. Diggory, incredulously.

"That's my wand!" said Harry. "I dropped it!"

"You dropped it?" repeated Mr. Diggory in disbelief. "Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark?"

"Amos, think who you're talking to!" said Mr. Weasley, very angrily. "Is _Harry Potter_ likely to conjure the Dark Mark?"

"Er - of course not," mumbled Mr. Diggory. "Sorry...carried away..."

"I didn't drop it there, anyway," said Harry, who was jerking his thumb toward the trees beneath the skull. "I missed it right after we got into the wood."

"So," said Mr. Diggory, his eyes hardening as he turned to look at Winky again, cowering at his feet. "You found this wand, elf? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, did you?"

"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" squealed Winky, tears streaming dwon the sides of her squashed and bulbous nose. "I is...I is...I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"

"It wasn't her!" said Hermione. She looked very nervous, speaking up in front of all the Ministry wizards, yet determined all the same. "Winky's got a sqeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!" She looked around at Harry and Ron, appealing for their support. "It didn't sound anything like Winky, did it?"

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "It definitely didn't sound like an elf."

"Yeah, it was a human voice," said Ron.

"Well, we'll soon see," growled Mr. Diggory, looking unimpressed. "There's a simple way of discovering the last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?"

Winky trembled and shook her head frantically, her ears flapping, as Mr. Diggory raised his own wand again and placed it tip to tip with Harry's.

" _Prior Incantato!"_ roared Mr. Diggory.

Marcus drew a sharp, quick breath as a gigantic serpent-tongued skull erupted from the point where the two wands met, but it was a mere shadow of the green skull high above them; it looked as though it were made of thick gray smoke: the ghost of a spell.

 _"Deletrius!"_ Mr. Diggory shouted, and the smoky skull vanished in a wisp of smoke.

"So," said Mr. Diggory with a kind of savage triumph, looking down upon Winky, who was still shaking convulsively.

"I is not doing it!" she squealed, her eyes rolling in terror. "I is not, I is not, I is not knowing how! I is a good elf, I isn't using wands, I isn't knowing how!"

 _"You've been caught red-handed, elf!"_ Mr. Diggory roared. _"Caught with the guilty wand in your hand!"_

"Amos," said Michael Williams in a loud, stern voice. "Think about it...there are very few wizards who would know how to cast that spell...How would Winky go about learning such a spell?"

"Perhaps Amos is suggesting," said Mr. Crouch, cold anger in every syllable, "that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?"

There was a deeply unpleasant silence. Mr. Diggory looked horrified. "Mr. Crouch...not...not at all..."

"You have now come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are _least_ likely to conjure that Mark!" barked Mr. Crouch. "Harry Potter - and myself! I suppose you are familiar with the boy's story, Amos?"

"Of course - everyone knows -" muttered Mr. Diggory, looking highly discomforted.

"And I trust that you remember that many proofs I have given, over a long career, that I despise and detest the Dark Arts and those who practice them?" Mr. Crouch shouted, his eyes bulging again.

"Mr. Crouch, I - I never suggested you had anything to do with it!" Mr. Diggory muttered again, now reddening behind his scrubby brown beard.

"If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory!" shouted Mr. Crouch. "Where else would she have learned to conjure it?"

"She - she might've picked it up anywhere -"

"Precisely, Amos," said Mr. Weasley. _"She might have picked it up anywhere_...Winky?" he said kindly, turning to the elf, but she flinched as though he too was shouting at her. "Where exactly did you find Harry's wand?"

Winky was twisting the hem of her tea towel so violently that it was fraying beneath her fingers.

"I - I is finding it...finding it there, sir..." she whispered. "there...in the trees, sir..."

Michael, who was quiet for some time, finally spoke. "You see, Amos? Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they'd done it, leaving Harry's wand behind. It's the smartest thing the culprit could've done, as they weren't using their own wand to cast the spell. Doing so would've done the culprit in the moment their own wand was examined. All Winky had was the misfortune to come across the wand moments later and picking it up."

"But then, she'd have been only a few feet away from the real culprit!" said Mr. Diggory impatiently. "Elf? Did you see anyone?"

Winky began to tremble worse than ever. Her giant eyes flickered from Mr. Diggory, to Ludo Bagman, and onto Mr. Crouch. Then she gulped and said, "I is seeing no one, sir...no one..."

"Amos," said Mr. Crouch curtly, "I am fully aware that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your department for questioning. I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her."

Mr. Diggory looked as though he didn't think much of this suggestion at all, but it was clear to Marcus that Mr. Crouch was such an important member of the Ministry that he didn't dare refuse him.

"You may rest assured that she will be punished," Mr. Crouch added coldly.

"M-m-master..." Winky stammered, looking up at Mr. Crouch, her eyes brimming with tears. "M-m-master, p-p-please..."

Mr. Crouch stared back, his face somehow sharpened, each line upon it more deeply etched. There was no pity in his gaze.

"Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have believed possible," he said slowly. "I told her to remain in the tent. I told her to stay there while I went to sort out the trouble. And I find that she disobeyed me. _This means clothes."_

"No!" shrieked Winky, prostrating herself at Mr. Crouch's feet. "No, master! Not clothes, not clothes!"

Marcus knew that the only way to turn a house-elf free was to present it with proper garments. He watched with a heavy heart as Winky clutched at her tea towel as she sobbed over Mr. Crouch's feet.

"But she was frightened!" Hermione burst out angrily, glaring at Mr. Crouch. "Your elf's scared of heights, and those wizards in masks were levitating people! You can't blame her for wanting to get out of the way!"

Mr. Crouch took a step backward, freeing himself from contact with the elf, whom he was surveying as though she were something filthy and rotten that was contaminating his over-shined shoes.

"I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me," he said coldly, looking over at Hermione. "I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, and to her master's reputation."

Winky was crying so hard that her sobs echoed around the clearing. There was a nasty silence, which was ended by Mr. Weasley, who said quietly, "Well, I think I'll take my lot back to the tent, if nobody's got any objections. Amos, that wand's told us all it can - if Harry could have it back, please -"

Marcus saw Mr. Diggory handing Harry his wand and, as he pocketed, he heard his father say, "Cedric, can you help my son get back to Mr. Weasley's campsite? I have to have a word with your father and Mr. Crouch and take care of a few things."

"Certainly, Mr. Williams," said Cedric who, before Marcus could say anything, hoisted the white-haired wizard on his back.

"Come on, everyone," Mr. Weasley said quietly. But Hermione didn't seem to want to move; her eyes were still upon the sobbing elf. "Hermione!" Mr. Weasley said, more urgently. She turned and followed Harry and Rn out of the clearing and off through the trees.

Marcus could hear, ahead of him and Cedric, Hermione say upon leaving the clearing, "What's going to happen to Winky?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Weasley.

"The way they were treating her!" said Hermione furiously. "Mr. Diggory, calling her 'elf' all the time...and Mr. Crouch! He knows she didn't do it and he's still going to sack her! He didn't care how frightened she'd been, or how upset she was - it was like she wasn't even human!"

"Well, she's not," said Ron.

Hermione rounded on him.

"That doesn't mean she hasn't got feelings, Ron. It's disgusting the way -"

"Hermione, I agree with you," said Mr. Weasley quickly, beckoning her on, "but now is not the time to discuss elf right. I want to get back to the tent as fast as we can. What happened to the others?"

"We lost them in the dark," said Ron. "Dad, why was everyone so uptight about that skull thing?"

"I'll explain everything back at the tent," said Mr. Weasley tensely.

Cedric then said in a quiet tone so that only Marcus can hear, "You're pretty lucky you came out the other side of that skirmish with your life."

"It's not good enough, Cedric," Marcus said. "How can I expect to face the Dark Prince if I can't defeat a few Dark Wizards?"

"You're an underaged wizard whose body is just starting to mature," said Cedric in the same quiet tone. He wasn't scolding Marcus, that much he could tell. He was just stating facts. "Against overage wizards, with more knowledge and a more ruthless mentality, it wasn't just reckless, it was a suicidal act."

Marcus couldn't say anything, due to how right Cedric was.

"Though, to be fair, it was because of your physical training and your will to get better that enabled you to stand up to them and live. Not many wizards can say that."

"And I have a banged up body to prove it, too," said Marcus.

Cedric gave a sort of muffled laugh and said, "All I'm saying, Marcus, is that I wouldn't dwell on it too much. You reflect, you find out what you need to do to correct it, and you move on. Given a few more years, and you keep doing what you've been doing, you'll be able to take them down, no problem. In the meantime, when we get to Hogwarts, we'll help each other get better."

Marcus, who was quite moved by his words, said, "Thanks, Cedric."

"No problem, Marcus," said Cedric with a smirk. He looked to his right and asked Marcus," This is your tent, right?"

Marcus looked at Mr. Weasley's tent and said, "Yeah, that's it."

"All right, then," Cedric said. "Nice and easy does it."

He slowly crouched down, so that Marcus could get off. The moment he did get off, Marcus knew that he sprained a good number of muscles in his body, and he was feeling more fatigued than he realized.

"I'll see you at Hogwarts, Marcus," said Cedric. "Don't forget, let me know when you start your training."

"I will, Cedric," said Marcus. "See you later."

Once Cedric departed, Marcus saw Charlie's head poking out of the tent.

"Marcus!" said Charlie. "Bloody hell, are you all right?!"

"I don't want to talk about it," said Marcus flatly.

The two of them then saw Mr. Weasley approaching the tent with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Dad, what's going on?" he called through the dark. "Fred, George, and Ginny got back okay, but the others -"

"I've got them here," said Mr. Weasley, bending down and entering the tent. Marcus hobbled in after him, followed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding profously. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt, and Percy was sporting a bloody nose. Fred, George, and Ginny looked unhurt, though shaken.

"Did you get them, Dad?" said Bill sharply. "The person who conjured the Mark?"

"No," said Mr. Weasley. "We found Barty Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."

" _What?_ " said Bill, Charlie, and Percy together.

"Harry's wand?" said Fred.

 _"Mr. Crouch's elf?"_ said Percy, sounding thunderstruck.

With some assistance from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Mr. Weasley explained what had happened in the woods. When they had finished their story, Percy swelled indignantly.

"Well, Mr. Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like that!" he said. "Running away when he'd expressly told her not to...embarrassing him in front of the whole Ministry...how would that have looked, if she'd been brought up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control -"

"She didn't do anything - she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hermione snapped at Percy, who looked very taken aback. Hermione had always got on fairly well with Percy - better, indeed, than any of the others.

"Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch's position can't afford a house-elf who's going to run amok with a wand!" said Percy pompously, recovering himself.

"She didn't run amok!" shouted Hermione. "She just picked it up off of the ground!"

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" said Ron impatiently. "It wasn't hurting anyone...Why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," said Hermione, before anyone else could answer. "I read about it in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_."

"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years," said Mr. Weasley quietly. "Of course people panicked...it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who again."

"I don't get it," said Ron, frowning. "I mean...it's still only a shape in the sky..."

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed," said Mr. Weasley. "The terror is inspired...you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you're about to find inside..." Mr. Weasley winced. "Everyone's worst fear...the very worst..."

There was silence for a moment. Then Bill, removing the sheet from his arm to check on his cut, said, "Well, it didn't help us tonight, whoever conjured it. It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. They all Disapparated before we'd got near enough to unmask any of them. We caught the Robertses before they hit the ground, though. They're having their memories modified right now."

"Death Eaters?" said Harry. "What are Death Eaters?"

"It's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves," said Bill. "I think we saw what's left of them tonight - the ones who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban, anyway."

"We can't prove it was them, Bill," said Mr. Weasley. "Though it probably was," he added hopelessly.

"Yeah, I bet it was!" said Ron suddenly. "Dad, we met Draco Malfoy in the woods, and he as good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know the Malfoys were right in with You-Know-Who!"

"But what were Voldemort's supporters -" Harry began. Everyone, save for Marcus, flinched at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. "Sorry," said Harry quickly. "What were You-Know-Who's supporters up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what's the point?

"The point?" said Mr. Weasley with a hollow laugh. "Harry, that's their idea of fun. Half the Muggle killings back when You-Know-Who was in power were done for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn't resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them," he finished disgustingly.

"But if they _were_ Death Eaters; why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?" said Ron. "They'd have been pleased to see it, wouldn't they?"

"Use your brains, Ron," said Bill. "If they really were Death Eaters, they worked very hard to keep out of Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power, and told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people. I bet they'd be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back. They denied they'd ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, and went back to their daily lives...I don't reckon he'd be over-pleased with them, do you?"

"So...whoever conjured the Dark Mark..." said Hermione slowly, "were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?"

"Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione," said Mr. Weasley. "But I'll tell you this...it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I'd be very surprised if the person who did it hadn't been a Death Eater once, even if they're not now...Listen, it's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened she'll be worried sick. We'll get a few more hours sleep and then try to and get an early Portkey out of here."

At that moment, the entrance opened, and Marcus saw his parents step through the threshold.

"Sorry about being so late," Michael said to Mr. Weasley. "My errands took a little later than I thought. If you don't mind, Arthur, my wife and I need to borrow the other tent so that we can have a talk with our son."

Marcus felt the angry stare from his father bearing down on him, making him start sweating a bit.

"Oh," said Mr. Weasley. "Oh, yes, of course, no problem."

"Come on, Marcus," said Brynn, who helped Marcus get out of the chair he was sitting in since getting back inside the tent.

Once they walked inside the girls' tent, Michael got out his wand and started waving it around. He did this for a few seconds, and put it away. "There we are," said Michael. "Now, on to the matter at hand."

Marcus, who was sitting on the chair at the table, was looking at his parents, unsure of how badly this was going to go.

"Marcus Michael Williams, do you have any idea how much of an idiot you were tonight?!" Michael roared at him.

Marcus had heard his father get mad before, sure, but this was far worse than anything he previously experienced. "Um, well -"

"You go charging full steam ahead against ruthless Death Eaters, and then what?!" Michael yelled. "Were you honestly expecting to single-handedly defeat them, just because you exercise and learned a few spells from a few years of schooling?!"

"Michael, perhaps you should -" Brynn began to say.

"No, Brynn!" Michael told her, looking quite mad. "It's time he heard this!"

Michael then looked at Marcus and said, "Over the past few years, you've done some foolish things, Marcus. Your mother and I haven't done anything about it because we thought you would've learned from the experiences. However, it's quite clear that you've gotten pretty reckless!"

"What other choices was left to me?" Marcus said, getting impatient.

"You contact Aurors, you lead people away from the danger, you ensure the people around you are all right!" yelled Michael. " _YOU DON'T GO RUNNING HEAD FIRST INTO CERTAIN DEATH!"_

"Are you saying I was better off running away?!"

"YES!" Michael roared. "LOOK AT YOU! BATTERED AND BRUISED FROM HEAD TO TOE, AND THEY WEREN'T EVEN BEING SERIOUS! HAVE YOU BOTHERED TO CONSIDER HOW YOUR FRIENDS WOULD'VE FELT, OR HOW YOUR MOTHER AND I WOULD'VE FELT, IF YOU HAD DIED TO THOSE DEATH EATERS TONIGHT?!"

Marcus was very much taken aback by this question.

"No -" he said after a minute of silence. "No, I didn't -"

"OF COURSE NOT!" roared Michael. "BUT, OF COURSE, YOU FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE TO PROVE A POINT, BECAUSE IN YOUR MIND, YOU NEED TO TAKE ON ALL MANNER OF FOES!"

"What I need to take on, someday, somehow, is the bastard who did this to me!" yelled Marcus, who stood up and lifted his shirt to reveal the horrendous crown scar with the X inside of it.

At this point, Brynn got inbetween them and said, "Look, Michael, let me handle it from here. Why don't you go tell Mr. Weasley our plans so that we don't waste any time after we're done here?"

Michael, who could only nod, got out of the tent in a hurry.

"Marcus, sit down," said Brynn, who got out her wand.

Marcus did so, saying, "I know what Dad's saying, Mom, but he can't honestly expect me to act like everyone else, right?"

While Brynn was using magic to heal Marcus, she sighed and said, "Of course not, Marcus. He knows and likes the fact that you do what it takes to make yourself better. We encourage you to make yourself better. But, we also want you to be able to use your head, to think rationally. Think about it, Marcus. Was going up against the Death Eaters the best decision you could've made tonight, when the place had trained Aurors and security?"

Marcus replied, "No...no, it wasn't."

As Brynn was finishing up with the healing magic, she continued, "You're a lot like me, Marcus. We both can't resist a good challenge, and we think much differently than a lot of people. We have to put in a lot more effort, more mental effort, to suppress the urge to fight. You have a good head on your shoulders, son. Don't let it go to waste."

"I won't, Mom," said Marcus, who felt slightly better.

At that moment, Michael came back into the tent and asked, "Brynn, is Marcus all healed up?"

"Yes, Michael, he is," said Brynn.

"Then, let's get going."

Marcus stood up and said, "Go? Now? Where are we going?"

"To Diagon Alley," he said in a slightly stern tone. "We're getting your school supplies."

"But, none of the shops will be open," said Marcus.

"I've had to pull a few strings, but they will be exclusively for us," Michael said. "Come on, let's go."

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Feel free to leave a review on this story, as that always helps refine my skills as a writer! Also, if you want to ask me any questions, please don't hesitate to send me a PM and, I promise, I will answer them to the best of my ability! Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next exciting chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	10. (10) An Ominous Warning

**Welcome, one and all, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! As we progress further along the adventures of Marcus Williams, I'd like to take this time to thank each and every one of you that reads my series, as I know you don't have to. Also...**

 **Disclaimer: I know not a darn thing of HP except for OC's.**

 **With that, here's...**

Chapter 10: An Ominous Warning

 **Enjoy, one and all!**

The Williams Family made a quick Disapparation to the house, then proceeded to use the Floo Network to get to the Leaky Cauldron and, from there, made their way to Diagon Alley.

It was the oddest thing to see Diagon Alley not full of bustling witches and wizards, but it was also refreshing to be able to go into a shop, get what they needed, and get out, something that was pretty much impossible in the middle of the day. A lot of the things that were on Marcus' supply list was pretty standard and subsequently the shops they had to go. The only thing that stood out on Marcus' list was -

"Dress robes?!" said a horrified Marcus, double checking his supply list. "What in the world would _I_ need dress robes for in the first place?!

"If Hogwarts says you need dress robes, you need dress robes," said Michael flatly. "So, let's just go in Madam Malkin's store and get on with it."

"But, I avoid dress robes like the plague!" said Marcus.

"Oh, Marcus, dress robes aren't really that different from regular robes," said Brynn. "You know that."

Marcus, having been defeated, walked into Madam Malkin's store.

Immediately, he was greeted by the store owner, who said, "Welcome, welcome! The usual, I take it?"

"Yes," said Brynn with a smile. "He also needs dress robes, as well. What options do you have?"

At this, her face shined with glee as Madam Malkin said, "Oh, we have all sorts of different colors and fabric to choose from!" She looked at Marcus and think, "I recommend white dress robes, to match his gorgeous hair."

Marcus felt immediately irritated as he said, "I don't think -"

"What's your top of the line dress robe, Madam Malkin?" asked Michael, effectively cutting off Marcus.

"Well, since you asked, I have dress robes that change color for any occassion," said Madam Malkin with a smile. "All that would have to be done is point your wand at the dress robes while its touching the owner, say a color, and the dress robe will change to that color. The fabric is also top of the line, giving the owner a surreal feeling. One whole set, give or take, will cost about a thousand galleons."

"Perfect!" said Michael. "Marcus will be glad to get those dress robes, won't you, son?"

Resisting the urge to punch the nearest wall in sheer anger, Marcus used every ounce of willpower to say in an even tone, "Ah, yes, of course, that's an excellent idea, Father. Thank you for suggesting that."

Marcus knew that this was his father's way of punishing him, and he only did it with his Galleons. Usually, Marcus didn't spend his money on needless things, and the last exception he made was with his Firebolt. And, since his father knew he wanted to hold onto as much of his money as possible, he forced him in situations that left Marcus with no choice but to do what he said.

As he was getting fitted for school robes, Marcus noticed something that was really off.

"Wait, ma'am, are you sure those measurements are right?" he asked her.

"Of course I am," she said. "I've never been wrong when it comes to measuring."

"What in the world is going on here?!" he practically shouted.

"Marcus, what are you talking about?" asked Brynn, sounding quite worried.

"My ears have been super sensitive all summer, able to pick up conversations from long distances; I'm able to make out distinctive smells from long distances, too, and I've been trying to put on some bulk since March, but I seem to be getting smaller!"

"Marcus, you're going through a lot of changes," said Brynn rather quickly. "Your body does all sorts of things that'll stump you."

"And that includes my sense of smell and hearing?" asked Marcus in a disbelieving tone.

"Side effects," stated Brynn. "Happens all the time."

"Sure, it'll get irritating at times, but you'll just have to roll with the punches," said Michael.

Marcus then said, "Well, if that's all it is, I guess I have no choice."

The rest of the fitting went without a hitch and, when they left the store, Marcus said, "Well, that's everything on the list. How much time is left?"

Michael looked at his watch and said, "We have about a half-hour before Arthur plans on taking everyone back. Your mother and I have to stop at the Leaky Cauldron to contact the Ministry, so we'll be there. Take this time to do what you need, then we leave Diagon Alley."

"Right," said Marcus, who took off down the street.

As Michael watched his son take off down the street, Michael turned to Brynn and said, "Brynn, we're running out of time."

"I know that," said Brynn with a worried look on her face. "But, perhaps we'll be lucky and -"

"Brynn, his senses are already beginning to sharpen!" said Michael, getting impatient. "And you know what that means. Marcus is not an idiot. He'll figure it out sooner or later."

"But, he still hasn't come close to finding out," Brynn said in a matter-of-fact manner. "And he's going through a rough patch right now. Telling him would only make it worse."

"How long will you keep witholding this from him?" Michael asked Brynn. "Until the stars align perfectly and the world finds peace?" he added sarcastically.

"As long as I can," she replied stubbornly. "His life is far better off without that knowledge. We should know this best of all, given our own experiences."

At this response, Michael's face took on a grim feature and said, "Ah, I guess you're right. It would take a bizarre circumstance to make that information come to light. Come on, we've got to tell Fudge our reports."

* * *

Marcus found his way to the far end of Diagon Alley, where he found the abandoned building, but he knew better. The abandoned building was just a facade for what he was really after.

 _"Come on, Mr. Nilrem,"_ though Marcus, shutting his eyes in concentration. _"Come on, Mr. Nilrem!"_

It took much more effort than normal, but eventually, Marcus saw "Mr. Nilrem's Warrior Emporium" appear before his eyes.

"Finally!" said Marcus, who opened the front door and crossed the threshold.

The moment he crossed the threshold, he knew something was odd.

Mr. Nilrem was with another customer. This wouldn't have come across as odd if it wasn't the first time he saw this happen and how the customer was dressed.

The customer in question was wearing a very elaborate set of Chinese robes, with intracate artwork that Marcus only saw on paintings and the like. If Marcus had to take a guess, this member was a very important member of eastern society. His shoes were of a bright, beautiful silk, but it also came off as something he wore every day.

The customer did have their back facing him, but upon the door closing, this person's head was brought up, revealing an elaborate hair bun Marcus didn't see before, and he heard the person speak in a rather deep voice, "Well, well, if it isn't Marcus Williams."

The person turned to face Marcus, whose eyes were the size of sacepans from disbelief, and saw that it was a man, who stood around five feet six inches, with long black hair tied up in a bun, a stern face, and blue eyes. Marcus could see that his eyes showed very little compassion. Rather, they were the kind of eyes that could've seen everything.

"So, this is his son," said the man, sounding unimpressed.

"Ah, yes," said Mr. Nilrem, who sounded a bit nervous. "Yes, he is."

"I take it you know my father?" asked Marcus, who was a bit on edge.

"Not in the slightest," said the man. "But, enough of that. It's quite good that we happen to meet now of all times, for I have much to tell you."

Marcus felt a little wary of this man, but he said, "Um, okay."

"Our current age has begun to unravel," said the man in the Chinese robes. "Granted, it has only started, and it will take some time to truly fall apart, but time is of the essence. When was the last time you had a Dark Prince nightmare?"

"What the -?!" Marcus said, getting rather frightened, considering that precious few people knew about that. "How did you -?!"

"Young Mr. Williams, I think it'll be best if you just answer his questions," Mr. Nilrem said.

Marcus then looked at the man and said, "It was just the other day. Him and Voldemort were conspiring in a run down mansion somewhere in the UK. I couldn't tell you anything more."

"Then it is a little further along than I thought," said the man, mostly to himself. He looked at Marcus and continued, "You may not realize it yet, Marcus, but what you and Harry Potter do in the upcoming years will set the stage for many years to come."

"I -"

"You may not believe in fate or destiny," said the man, effectively cutting Marcus off, "but trust me when I say that there are great things working in your life, things that even you don't realize yet. Continue to strive for excellence, as you always have, Marcus Williams, for if you let up, even for a single instant, you may not be able to have the power necessary to do what is ordained to you."

Marcus felt flabbergasted. This man was saying things that were really putting him on edge, and he didn't like it.

"Well, it's not like I'm going to just stop what I'm doing," said Marcus, unsure of what else to say.

"You may be tempted to by the time you're done with your fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Marcus Williams," the man told him.

"What the -?!"

"I'd practice constant vigilance, if I were you," said the man, who started to walk towards the back. He didn't take a few steps when he turned his head to the side and said, "Oh, by the way, give this message to your parents for when you return to the Leaky Cauldron: Their time is coming. Be prepared."

With this, the man walked into the back of the store.

"Mr. Nilrem, what was UP with that guy?!" said Marcus, sounding quite freaked out.

"Well, he's an enigma, that's for sure," said Mr. Nilrem, glancing at the back of the store. "But he knows what he's talking about. I'd take his advice to heart, if I were you, young Mr. Williams."

"Yeah, he sure sounded like he wasn't messing around," said Marcus in agreement. "So, Mr. Nilrem, anything interesting today?"

"Yes, two things in fact," said Mr. Nilrem who brought out two pieces of equipment: One was an incomplete shield, the other was a head piece that looked like a circlet.

"Wow," said Marcus, noticing the craftsmanship.

"Yes, these are remarkable pieces," said Mr. Nilrem. "The Shield is a round shield, designed mostly for bashing and shield wall tactics. However, the metal alloy that was used to forge this shield makes it so that it can withstand both magical and physical with ease. As you can see, it's incomplete. It needs strong material in the front of the shield to be complete. This is for your father."

He handed Marcus the incomplete shield and proceeded to say, "This head piece is what I called the Armor Circlet. Since the metal is formed out of the same metal as the shield and your armguards, it's light, super strong, and leaves the owner protected from head to toe. All that has to be done is tap it with a wand and it'll assume it full armor form. This one is for your mother."

"And how much is this going to cost me?" asked Marcus.

"They have already been bought for," said Mr. Nilrem, "by that enigmatic gentleman you met a little bit ago."

"I hope I don't have to meet him again," he said to Mr. Nilrem. "He freaks me out."

"Who knows," said Mr. Nilrem. "But, I do suggest that you don't make your parents wait for you, young Mr. Williams. Have a good day now."

"Yes, you too," said Marcus, who walked out of the store.

During the walk back to the Leaky Cauldron, Marcus found himself unnerved by that visit. The mysterious man did one thing to him that he wouldn't forget: He certainly made him much more paranoid than ever before.

* * *

Marcus walked into the longue of the Leaky Cauldron and saw his Mom and Dad by the fireplace.

"Oh, Marcus, there you are," said Michael, who saw Marcus and said, "Is everything all right? You're looking kind of pale."

"I'll be fine," said Marcus, who then got out the two pieces of equipment and said, "Here, Mom and Dad. I have two pieces of equipment for you. Dad, the incomplete shield is yours. If you want to make it complete, you'll have to find a strong material to fuse with the shield. Mom, this circlet is for you. It encases you in armor after you tap it with your wand. Also, I was told to tell you a message from a guy dressed in Chinese clothing."

After receiving their equipment, Marcus saw his father's eyes narrowing, but said all the same, "And what is that message?"

"Your time is coming. Be prepared."

This message set both of his parents on edge. However, they acted as if this didn't bother them as Michael took Floo Powder from the vase on top of the fireplace, put the powder in Marcus' hands, and said, "Go ahead and use it to get yourself to the Burrow. Your school things are already there. Oh, and you might want to assure Mrs. Weasley that everyone's all right. I didn't exactly get the chance to let her know."

Marcus sweatdropped a bit as he said, "All right. Wait, what about Blinky?"

"He's already at Hogwarts," said Brynn.

"Oh, okay," said Marcus, who walked inside the fireplace. "Wait, where are you guys going?"

"Your mother and I have some things to take care of," said Michael. "Don't worry, you'll see us sooner than you think."

"Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad," said Marcus, his voice full of concern.

He then raised his right hand above his head, said in a loud voice, "The Burrow!" and slammed the powder on the fireplace floor.

Once he made it to The Burrow's kitchenplace, he saw Mrs. Weasley rushing over, saying, "Marcus, thank goodness you're okay! How are the others? Are they okay?"

"Mrs. Weasley -"

"Goodness, I hope they're alright," said Mrs. Weasley, getting frantic and carrying what Marcus surmised was the morning edition of _The Daily Prophet_. "What'll happen if they - No, they have to be okay."

Feeling a little worried for Mrs. Weasley, he said, "Mrs. Weasley, why don't we go out to the front yard, get a bit of fresh air?"

"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Weasley. "Yes, of course."

So, the two of them made their way to the edge of the front yard, right at the fence.

They handn't been standing there for ten seconds when Marcus saw Mr. Weasley and everyone else walking toward the Burrow.

"See, Mrs. Weasley?" said Marcus, quite relieved that they showed up when they did. "They're all okay."

"Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness!"

Mrs. Weasley then took off towards them, Marcus jogging along with her.

When they met up with everyone else, Mrs. Weasley said, "Arthur - I've been so worried - _so worried_ -"

She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley's neck, and the _Daily Prophet_ fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, Marcus saw the headline: _SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP,_ complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.

"You're all right," Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly, releasing Mr. Weasley and staring around at them all with red eyes, "you're alive...Oh _boys_..."

And to everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.

" _Ouch!_ Mum - you're strangling us -"

"I shouted at you before you left!" Mrs. Weasley said, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.s? Fred...George..."

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," said Mr. Weasley soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says.."

When they were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione had made Mrs. Weasley a cup of very strong tea, into which Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Ogdens Old Firewhisky, Bill handed his father the newspaper. Mr. Weasley scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.

"I knew it," said Mr. Weasley heavily. _"Ministry blunders...culprits not apprehended...lax security...Dark wizards running unchecked...national disgrace..._ Who wrote this? Ah...of course...Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" said Percy furiously. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't _specifically_ stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans -"

"Do us a favor, Perce," said Bill, yawning, "and shut up."

"I'm mentioned," said Mr. Weasley, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he reached the bottom of the _Daily Prophet_ article.

"Where?" spluttered Mrs. Weasley, choking on her tea and whisky. "If I'd seen that, I'd have known you were alive!"

"Not by name," said Mr. Weasley. "Listen to this: _If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen.'_ Oh really," said Mr. Weasley in exasperation, handing the paper to Percy. "Nobody _was_ hurt. What was I supposed to say? _Rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods..._ well, there certainly will be rumors now she's printed that."

He heaved a deep sigh. "Molly, I'm going to have to go into the office; this is going to take some smoothing over."

"I'll come with you, Father," said Percy importantly. "Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person."

He bustled out of the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley looked most upset.

"Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely they can handle this without you?"

"I've got to go, Molly," said Mr. Weasley. "I've made things worse. I'll just change into my robes and I'll be off..."

"Mrs. Weasley," Marcus heard Harry suddenly say, "Hedwig hasn't arrived with a letter for me, has she?"

"Hedwig, dear?" said Mrs. Weasley distractedly. "No...no, there hasn't been any post at all."

Marcus looked at Harry with curiosity along with Ron and Hermione. With a meaningful look at the three of them, Harry said, "All right if I go and dump my stuff in your room, Ron?"

"Yeah...think I will too," said Ron at once.

"I need to put away my stuff, as well," said Marcus. "Hermione?"

"Yes," she said quickly, and the four of them marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"What's up, Harry?" said Ron, the moment they had closed the door of the attic room behind them.

"There's something I haven't told you," Harry said. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again."

Marcus was suddenly reminded of the enigmatic man at Mr. Nilrem's Warrior Emporium and was getting that unnerved feeling again. Hermione gasped and started making suggestions at once, mentioning a number of reference books, and everybody from Albus Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Ron simply looked dumbstruck.

"But - he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-Who? I mean - last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"

"I'm sure he wasn't on Privet Drive," said Harry. "But I was dreaming about him...him and Peter - you know, Wormtail - and the Dark Prince. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill...someone."

Marcus knew instantly what he was talking about, because he had that same dream earlier in the summer. He also knew that Harry avoided saying that they were plotting to kill him, but he wasn't going to bring it up.

"It was only a dream," said Ron bracingly. "Just a nightmare."

"Yeah, but was it, though?" said Harry, turning to look out of the window at the brightening sky. "It's weird, isn't it?...My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again."

"Don't - say - his - name!" Ron hissed through gritted teeth.

Harry then turned to Marcus and said, "Marcus, what do you think of this?"

Without hesitation, Marcus said, "I think we need to be prepared. The Dark Prince has rejoined Voldemort, and that gives Voldemort an undenying edge in whatever he's planning.

"Would you stop -?!" Ron began to say.

"Ron, seriously, not now," said Marcus. "Anyway, we know for sure that the two of them are coming after us. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, and perhaps not even a few month down the road, but they eventually will. It's just as Professor Trelawney predicted at the end of the school year, remember?"

"That's right!" said Harry. "She did say something like that!"

At once, Hermione's terrified look vanished as she let out a derisive snort.

"Oh, Harry, Marcus, you two aren't going to pay attention to anything that old fraud says?"

"You weren't there," said Harry. "You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance - a real one. And she said the Dark Lord would rise again... _greater and more terrible than ever before_...and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him...and that night Wormtail escaped."

"And then the Dark Prince proceeded to blast his way out of Azkaban shortly afterwards," said Marcus grimly.

There was a silence in which Ron absentmindedly fidgeted with a hole in his Chudley Cannons bedspread.

"Why were you asking if Hedwig had come, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Are you expecting a letter?"

"I told Sirius about my scar," said Harry, shrugging. "I'm waiting for his answer."

"Good thinking!" said Ron, his expression clearing. "I bet Sirius'll know what to do!"

"I hoped he'd get back to me quickly," said Harry.

"But we don't know where Sirius is...he could be in Africa or somewhere, couldn't he?" said Hermione reasonably. "Hedwig's not going to manage _that_ journey in a few days."

"Yeah, I know," said Harry.

"Hey, Marcus, Harry, come and have a game of Quidditch in the makeshift Quidditch field," Ron said. "Come on - Four on three, Bill and Charlie and Fred and George will play...You can try out that Wronski Feint, Harry..."

"Ron," said Hermione in an I-don't-think-you're-being-very-sensitive sort of voice, "Harry and Marcus don't want to play Quidditch right now...They're worried, and they're tired...We all need to go to bed..."

"Yeah, I want to play Quidditch," said Harry suddenly.

"Oh, that sounds fantastic!" said Marcus. "Harry and I will go and get our Firebolts. Hang on!"

Hermione left the room, muttering something that sounded very much like " _Boys."_

* * *

Neither Mr. Weasley nor Percy was at home much at all over the following week. Both left the house each morning before the rest of the family got up, and returned well after dinner every night.

"It's been an absolute uproar," Percy told them importingly the Sunday evening before they were due to return to Hogwarts. "I've been putting out fires all week. People keep sending Howlers, and of course, if you don't open a Howler straight away, it explodes. Scorch marks all over my desk and my best quill reduced to cinders."

"Why are they all sending Howlers?" asked Ginny, who was mending her copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ with Spellotape on the rug in front of the living room fire.

"Complaining about security at the World Cup," said Percy. "They want compensation for their ruined property. Mundungus Fletcher's put in a claim for a twelve-bedroomed tent with en-suite Jacuzzi, but I've got his number. I know for a fact he was sleeping under a cloak propped on sticks."

Mrs. Weasley glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. Marcus liked how practical the clock was. It was the most worthless thing in the world if you wanted to know the time, but it was very informative otherwise. It had nine golden hands, and each of them was engraved with one of the Weasley family's names. There were no numerals around the face, but descriptions of where each family member might be. "Home," "school," and "work" were there, but there was also "traveling," "lost," hospital," "prison," and, in the position where the number twelve would be on a normal clock, "mortal peril."

Eight of then hands were currently pointing to the "home" position, but Mr. Weasley's, which was the longest, was still pointing to "work." Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Your father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends since the days of You-Know-Who," she said. "They're working him far too hard. His dinner's going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon."

"Well, Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn't he?" said Percy. "If truth be told, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first -"

"Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter woman wrote!" said Mrs. Weasley, flaring up at once.

"If Dad hadn't said anything, old Rita would just have said it was disgraceful that nobody from the Ministry had commented," said Bill, who was playing chess with Ron. "Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good. Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts' Charm Breakers once, and called me 'a long-haired pillock'?"

"Well, it _is_ a bit long, dear," said Mrs. Weasley gently. "If you'd just let me -"

" _No,_ Mum."

As rain lashed against the living room window, Marcus was immersed deep in thought, trying to make sense of what that enigmatic man said to him. Hermione was immersed in _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4,_ copies of which Mrs. Weasley had bought for her, Harry, and Ron in Diagon Alley. Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava. Harry was polishing his Firebolt, the broomstick servicing kit Hermione had given him for his thirteenth birthday open at his feet. Fred and George were sitting over in a far corner, quills out, talking in whispers, their heads bent over a parchment.

"What are you two up to?" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, her eyes on the twins.

"Homework," said Fred vaguely.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Yeah, we've left it a bit late," said George.

"You're not by chance writing out a new _order form_ , are you?" said Mrs. Weasley shrewdly. "You wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?"

"Now, Mum," said Fred, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?"

Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh your father's coming!" she said suddenly, looking up at the clock again.

Mr. Weasley's hand had suddenly spun from "work" to "traveling"; a second later it had shuddered to a halt on "home" with the others, and they heard him calling from the kitchen.

"Coming, Arthur!" called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying out of the room.

A few moments later, Mr. Weasley came into the warm living room carring his dinner on a tray. He looked completely exhausted.

"Well, the fat's really in the fire now," he told Mrs. Weasley as he sat down in the armchair near the hearth and toyed unenthusiastically with his somewhat shriveled cauliflower. "Rita Skeeter's been ferreting around all week, looking for more Ministry mess-ups to report. And now she's found out about poor Bertha going missing, so that'll be the headline in the _Prophet_ tomorrow. I _told_ Bagman he should have sent someone to look for her ages ago."

"Mr. Crouch has been saying it for weeks and weeks," said Percy swiftly.

"Crouch is very lucky Rita hasn't found out about Winky," said Mr. Weasley irritably. "There'd be a week's worth of headlines in his house-elf being caught holding the wand that conjured the Dark Mark."

"I thought we were all agreed that that elf, while irresponsible, did _not_ conjure the Mark?" said Percy hotly.

"If you ask me, Mr. Crouch is very lucky no one at the _Daily Prophet_ knows how mean he is to elves!" said Hermione angrily.

"Now look here, Hermione!" said Percy. "A high-ranking Ministry official like Mr. Crouch deserves unswerving obedience from his servants -"

"His _slave_ , you mean!" said Hermione, her voice rising passionately, "because he didn't _pay_ Winky, did he?"

"Mr. Weasley, how are my Mom and Dad faring at the office?" asked Marcus, more so to break away from that particular conversation.

"Pretty well, considering they're receiving the full brunt of the mess," said Mr. Weasley. "Not to mention that Skeeter woman is on the warpath to dig up anything on Michael and Brynn."

"Why would she go out of her way like that?"

"From what I understand, Rita Skeeter believes that there's something about your parents that, if people knew about it, would change the Wizarding World. Again, this is something I've only heard around the office, it can't really be trusted. And besides, Michael and Brynn are always a few steps ahead of her. It's actually quite funny, seeing it from a distance," he remarked.

"I think you'd all better go upstairs and check that you've packed properly!" said Mrs. Weasley. "Come on now, all of you..."

Marcus made his way to the top of the house along with Harry and Ron. The rain sounded even louder at the top of the house, accompanied by loud whistlings and moans from the wind, not to mention sporadic howls from the ghoul who lived in the attic. Pidwidgeon began twittering and zooming around his cage when they entered. The sight of the half-packed trunks seemed to have sent him into a frenzy of excitement.

"Bung him some Owl Treats," said Ron, throwing a packet across to Harry. "It might shut him up."

Harry poked a few Owl Treats through the bars of Pidwidgeon's cage while Marcus turned to his trunk.

"It's been over a week," Harry said, looking at Hedwig's deserted perch. "Ron, Marcus, you don't reckon Sirius has been caught, do you?"

"Nah, it would've been in the _Daily Prophet,_ " said Ron.

"Besides, the Ministry would want to show they'd caught _someone_ , wouldn't they?" said Marcus.

"Yeah, I suppose..."

"Look, here's the stuff Mum got for you in Diagon Alley. And she's got some gold out of your vault for you...and she's washed all your socks," Ron told Harry.

As Harry started to pack his stuff, Marcus was packing his, but he was distracted. They hadn't got back to Hogwarts yet, and already, mysteries were appearing left and right. Why had that man said what he did, how come the Dark Mark showed when it did, and just what was in store for him and Harry at Hogwarts?

All of a sudden, Marcus heard Ron make a loud noise of disgust.

"What is _that_ supposed to be?"

He was holding up something that looked to be like a long, maroon velvet dress. Marcus grimaced at the sight of the moldy-looking lace frill at the collar and matching lace cuffs.

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Weasley entered, carrying an armful of freshly laundered Hogwarts robes.

"Here you are," she said, sorting them into three piles. "Now, mind you pack them properly so they don't crease."

"Mum, you've given me Ginny's new dress," said Ron, handing it out to her.

"Of course I haven't," said Mrs. Weasley. "That's for you. Dress robes."

 _"What?"_ said Ron, looking horror-struck.

"Dress robes!" repeated Mrs. Weasley. "It says on your school list that you're supposed to have dress robes this year...robes for formal occasions."

"You've got to be kidding me," said Ron in disbelief. "I'm not wearing that, no way."

"Everyone wears them, Ron!" said Mrs. Weasley crossly. "They're all like that! Your father's got some for smart parties!"

"I'll go starkers before I put that on," said Ron stubbornly.

"Don't be so silly," said Mrs. Weasley. "You've got to have dress robes, they're on your list! I got some for Harry too...show him, Harry..."

Marcus watched Harry open what seemed to be his last package with trepidation. It wasn't as bad as Ron's disaster of dress robes, though. Harry's dress robes looked the same as his normal robes, like Marcus' were, except that, instead of black, they were bottle green.

"I thought they'd bring out the color of your eyes, dear," said Mrs. Weasley fondly. She then turned to Marcus and said, "What about you, Marcus, dear? Why don't you show us your dress robes?"

Knowing that he wasn't going to get out of it, Marcus got out one of his dress robes from the trunk and prayed that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't know the difference.

However, Mrs. Weasley must've had a sharp eye for clothes, because she gasped and said, "Oh, you got those dress robes?!" She whipped out her wand and said, "May I, dear?"

"Mrs. Weasley -" Marcus begun to say.

However, Mrs. Weasley, in her own little world, said, "Snow White," and tapped his dress robe.

Before his eyes, his dress robes started to change color. The snow white started to wash over the black, cascading like a waterfall until it covered the entire dress robe.

"Oh, that looks wonderful with you, dear," gushed Mrs. Weasley.

"Well, of course, their dress robes are all right!" said Ron angrily, gesturing to Marcus' and Harry's dress robes. "Why couldn't I have some like that?"

"Because...well, I had to get yours secondhand, and there wasn't a lot of choice!" said Mrs. Weasley, flushing.

Marcus hid his face in shame. Marcus would've been more than happy to share his money in his Gringotts vault with the Weasleys, but he knew they would never take it.

"I'm never wearing them," Ron was saying stubbornly. "Never."

"Fine," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "Go naked. And, boys, make sure you get a picture of him. Goodness knows I could do with a laugh."

She left the room, slamming the door behind her. There was a funny spluttering noise from behind them. Pidwidgeon was choking on an overlarge Owl Treat.

"Why is everything I own rubbish?" said Ron furiously, striding across the room to unstick Pidwidgeon's beak.

* * *

The Dark Prince, having a gym all to himself, was working out furiously. At the moment, he was working his back and chest muscles using bench press exercises.

He was in the middle of his last set when he heard a familiar voice say, "My Prince, I am here at your request."

He finished his exercise, looked to the right, and saw a familiar body kneeling twenty feet away from him, the hood over his head.

"You're lucky you didn't come during the middle of my workout, servant," said the Dark Prince coldly, who took a nearby towel and wiped off the sweat. "Status report, now."

"All went as you predicted," said the servant, still kneeling. "The U.K. has been thrown into disarray with suspicion and fear, though they haven't been plunged into it."

"Good, good," said the Dark Prince, smirking. "We can't have the people feeling hopeless just yet. There's still so much to prep for. Now, what about _him_? How did he do?"

"Given the situation, he performed better than we thought," said the servant. "He was able to hold us off for a couple of minutes and got off a couple of spells."

The Dark Prince frowned at this. "Only a couple of spells?"

"Yes, My Prince."

The Dark Prince gave a sort of tutting noise as he stated, "This won't do at all. I was sure he would be further along than this." He sighed, looked at the servant and said, "Rise, servant."

The servant rised to his feet, the hood being over his head so that his face couldn't be seen.

"And where is he now?"

"He's staying at The Burrow, home of the Weasleys," said the servant, who sounded a bit disgusted.

"Getting ready to go to Hogwarts, I take it?"

"Yes, My Prince."

The Dark Prince turned away from him, pacing, saying, "If I am to ensure myself of his progress, I must push him. Push him further than anyone has, and then further beyond that. Servant, I have another task for you."

"My Prince, anything you ask of me, it will be done," said the servant.

The Dark Prince turned once again to face his servant and said, "You are to go to America, my faithful servant. Seek out a servant of mine who has placed herself within the workings of the American Ministry of Magic's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Bring her to me, no matter how long it takes."

"But, My Prince, I'm not sure if -"

The Dark Prince suddenly had Dark Energy grasped around the servant's throat, causing the servant to violently gag.

"I thought I made myself clear back at the Quidditch World Cup, servant," The Dark Prince growled through gritted teeth, sounding quite menacing. "I give you a task, you complete the task, no questions asked."

"U-Understood, My Prince," gagged the servant.

The Dark Prince reluctantly dissapated the Dark Energy and said, "Make it happen, servant, and do not present yourself before me without her by your side. Now go."

The servant immediately disappeared with a _pop_ that rang in the silent air of the gym.

"My time grows ever so shorter before I am to have my ordained meeting," said The Dark Prince. "I must prepare for it."

He then Disapparated with a _pop_ , leaving the empty gym without a trace...

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review on this story, as this always helps me refine my skills as a writer! Also, if you have any questions you'd like to ask me, don't hesitate to send me a PM and, I promise, I will answer them to the best of my ability. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next exciting chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	11. (11) Hogwarts Bound

**Welcome, everyone, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Not much to say this time except...**

 **Disclaimer: Ownership of HP is a no go...except for OC's.**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter 11: Hogwarts Bound

 **Enjoy!**

Marcus, once again, found himself in the city of Paris.

This time, he was standing inbetween his Mom and Dad, looking at the mysterious young girl who was standing with another man, who he didn't recognize.

"Thank you for your help in the matter, Mr. and Mrs. Williams," said the man with a heavy french accent.

"Oh, don't worry about it," said Michael. "It was our pleasure to help out."

"Yes, it certainly was," said Brynn, who sounded like she was in paradise. "Ah, Michael, can't we just transfer to the French Ministry of Magic? This place would make a wonderful place to continue raising Marcus."

Marcus looked up to his father in excitement and joy. For such a thing to happen would mean that he would get to always spend time with the young girl.

"No," Michael said flatly. "We have our reasons for working at the American Ministry of Magic, Brynn, you know that."

Marcus then got really sad as his one hope of staying with the young girl was whisked away. He looked at her, who looked just as excited as he was and just as sad when his father denied it so quickly.

The young girl approached him and said, "No matter how long it takes, Mar-kees, I will find you again."

"I'm looking forward to that day," said Marcus with a joyous smile on his face.

"Well, then, this is our cue to leave," said Michael. "Marcus, it's time to say good-bye."

"Really?" said Marcus, sounding sad. "Okay, then."

He turned to the young lady and said, "Good-bye, Ms. -?!"

Suddenly, he found himself in the darkness.

Pitch black as far as the eye could see, Marcus looked at them and realized he was no longer in his four year old body, but rather his current, fourteen year old body.

"What - what's going on?!" he said to himself.

Suddenly, he heard a loud noise coming from above and behind him, making him quickly turn around.

He saw what first looked like a bright light, but as it started to move toward him, he realized what it was and he started to freak out.

"Oh, no, no, no!" he said out loud, clearly freaking out.

Suddenly, it landed in front of him and he didn't know what to do.

He found himself standing in front of a dragon. This dragon was pure white, including his underbelly, his white scales looked as if crushed diamonds had been poured all over the dragon. He stood on his rear legs, being close to seven feet tall. His rounded tail extended behind him about as long as he stood tall and his wings were extended, giving a wingspan of around fourteen feet. The dragon, rather than being really bulky like most dragons, was quite slender, toned and completely ripped, taking on an almost human aspect, but Marcus knew better. Somehow he knew that, underneath the slender, yet ripped appearance was unimaginable physical strength and prowress the likes of which Marcus had never gone up against before. His snout and jaw were only extended a little bit beyond his head, which showed razor sharp teeth and his golden horns took a slight outward bend, coming back in slightly as it went towards the top, the tips of which took another outward bend.

But the thing that freaked Marcus out the most were the dragon's eyes. Pure gold and full of menace, the dragon stared him down as if it was waiting for this moment for a long time.

"What - what do you want with me?!" yelled Marcus, not sure what to do.

The dragon, giving off a sort of low unthreatening growl, reached toward him with one of his arms, arms that, while it looked a lot like a beefed-up human arm, Marcus thought that it could easily break, punch, or claw almost any substance.

The shiny, white claws were mere inches away from when a deathly, ominous growl erupted from behind the dragon.

The dragon turned to face the source of the growling and, if Marcus was freaked out before, it was nothing compared to what he was currently seeing.

In front of the dragon, standing about fifty feet away, was a dog. This was no mere dog, however. Standing in a churchyard, towering over the graves, was a pitch black dog with pure gold eyes and sharp teeth that was seen because of the dog growling at them. Even on its four legs, it towered over the dragon and Marcus, and the thing that freaked Marcus out was the fact that, while it looked solid, it also looked smokey, like it was caught inbetween and just stayed that way.

The giant dog barked loudly at them, which fired off like concussive sound blasts at them.

In response, the dragon roared at the dog, which sent up a great shiver up Marcus' spine. The roar of the dragon moved around him, through him, and reverberated inside him, leaving him feeling helpless and scared.

Suddenly, the giant dog pounced at them, the dragon leaping at him before flying against the dog, his left fist cocked back and ready to make contact with the dog.

"Wait, what -?!" Marcus began to say.

Suddenly, Marcus found himself falling into an abyss, screaming as he fell deeper and deeper...

* * *

Marcus sat up quickly, wildly looking around and found himself in Ron's room in the The Burrow.

Marcus, while realizing it was only a dream, couldn't go back to sleep. The dream was too vivid, it felt too real.

Marcus got up and dressed himself in his favorite Muggle attire of blue jeans, sneakers, a simple black t-shirt, and a black hooded sweatshirt. He was listening to the rain still splattering against the window as he took care not to wake Harry and Ron while he was getting his belongings down to the living room.

He then spent the next few hours contemplating what he just dreamed about.

 _"It seems that I have a lot to try and decipher throughout this year,"_ thought Marcus. _"This reminds me of second-year, when Riddle was carrying out those attacks on Muggle-borns. Unlike then, however, I have literally no clues, just vague advice and warnings. Ugh, what am I going to do?!"_

At this point, he saw Mrs. Weasley coming down the stairs. She saw Marcus and said, "Goodness, Marcus, what are you doing up so early?"

"Bad dream," Marcus simply said, not wanting to go into details.

She must've felt the finality in his voice, because she started making breakfast in silence.

Marcus lost track of time, sitting in the silence, because it caught him by surprise that Harry, Ron, Fred, and George were reaching the living room.

It also surprised him to see Mrs. Weasley going to the foot of the stairs, looking quite harrassed, and called up," Arthur! Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!"

Marcus watched as Mr. Weasley came clattering past with his robes on back-to-front and hurtled out of sight. When Marcus entered the kitchen with everyone else, they saw Mrs. Weasley rummaging anxiously in the drawers - "I've got a quill here somewhere!" - and Mr. Weasley bending over the fire, talking to -

 _"What in the world is Mr. Diggory doing here?!"_ thought a startled Marcus.

"...Muggle neighbors heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems - please-men. Arthur, you've got to get over there -"

"Here!" said Mrs. Weasley breathlessly, pushing a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill into Mr. Weasley's hands.

"-it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," said Mr. Diggory's head. "I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off - if Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur -"

"What does Mad-Eye say happened?" asked Mr. Weasley, unscrewing the ink bottle, loading up his quill, and preparing to take notes.

Mr. Diggory's head rolled its eyes. "Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushed by his dustbins."

"What did the dustbins do?" asked Mr. Weasley, scribbling frantically.

"Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell," said Mr. Diggory. "Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the please-men turned up -"

Mr. Weasley groaned.

"And what about the intruder?"

"Arthur, you know Mad-Eye," said Mr. Diggory's head, rolling its eyes again. "Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? More likely there's a very shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere, covered in potato peelings. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on this on Mad-Eye, he's had it - think of his record - we've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department - what are exploding dustbins worth?"

"Might be a caution," said Mr. Weasley, still writing very fast, his brow furrowed. "Mad-Eye didn't use his wand? He didn't actually attack anyone?"

"I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach through the window," said Mr. Diggory, "but they'll have a job proving it, there aren't any casualties."

"All right, I'm off," Mr. Weasley said, and he stuffed the parchment with his notes on it into his pocket and dashed out of the kitchen again.

Mr. Diggory's head looked around at Mrs. Weasley.

"Sorry about this, Molly," it said, more calmly, "bothering you so early and everything...but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye's suppose to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night..."

"Never mind, Amos," said Mrs. Weasley. "Sure you won't have a bit of toast or anything before you go?"

"Oh go on, then," said Mr. Diggory.

Mrs. Weasley took a piece of buttered toast from a stack on the kitchen table, put it into the fire tongs, and transferred it into Mr. Diggory's mouth.

"Fanks," he said in a muffled voice, and then, with a small _pop_ , vanished.

Marcus could hear Mr. Weasley calling hurried good-byes to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the girls. Within five minutes, he was back in the kitchen, his robes on the right way now, dragging a comb through his hair.

"I'd better hurry - you have a good term, boys," said Mr. Weasley to Marcus, Harry, Ron, and the twins, fastening a cloak over his shoulders and preparing to Disapparate. "Molly, are you going to be all right taking the kids to King's Cross?"

"Of course I will," she said. "You just look after Mad-Eye, we'll be fine."

As Mr. Weasley vanished, Bill and Charlie entered the kitchen.

"Did someone say Mad-Eye?" Bill asked. "What's he been up to now?"

"He says someone tried to break into his house last night," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Mad-Eye Moody?" said George thoughtfully, spreading marmalade on his toast. "Isn't he that nutter -"

"Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," said Mrs. Weasley sternly.

"Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?" said Fred quietly as Mrs. Weasley left the room. "Birds of a feather..."

"Moody was a great wizard in his time," said Bill.

"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, isn't he?" said Charlie.

"Dumbledore's not what you'd call _normal_ , though, is he?" said Fred. "I mean, I know he's a genius and everything..."

"Who _is_ Mad-Eye?" Harry asked.

"He's retired, used to work at the Ministry as Head of the Auror Department," said Charlie. "I met him once when Dad took me in to work with him. He was one of the best -" Charlie saw the blank look on Harry's face and added in, "An Auror is a Dark Wizard catcher." He turned to everyone else and continued, "Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though...the families of people he caught, mainly...and I heard he's been getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore. Sees Dark Wizards everywhere."

Bill and Charlie decided to come and see everyone off at King's Cross station, but Percy, apologizing most profusely, said that he really needed to get to work.

"I just can't justify taking more time off at the moment," he told them. "Mr. Crouch is really starting to rely on me."

"Yeah, you know what, Percy?" said George seriously. "I reckon he'll know your name soon."

* * *

Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village post office to order four ordinary Muggle taxis to take them into London.

"Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us," Mrs. Weasley whispered to Marcus and Harry as they stood in the rain-washed yard, watching the taxi drivers heaving seven heavy Hogwarts trunks into their cars. "But there weren't any to spare..Oh dear, they don't look happy, do they?"

Now, Marcus didn't know everything about the Muggle World, as he only spent time in it from the age of five to ten and a half, but even he knew that Muggle taxi drivers rarely transported overexcited owls, and Pidwidgeon was making an earsplitting racket. Nor did it help that a number of Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks went off unexpectedly when Fred's trunk sprang open, causing the driver carrying it to yell with fright and pain as Crookshanks clawed his way up the man's leg.

For Marcus, the journey wasn't too uncomfortable, considering only himself, his belongings, and Charlie were in one cab, as everyone else were in the other three cabs.

"So, Marcus, would you say your summer has been eventful?" Charlie asked.

"Bizarre," Marcus stated. "There's just so many things that has happened and no rhyme or reason why."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, at the Quidditch World Cup, when the Death Eaters attacked, I went to face off against them."

Charlie sighed and said, "I overheard from Dad that you did something like that."

"Well, the thing is...well, I think they acted at the World Cup because of me."

"Because of _you_?!"

"Yes. When I had finally reached them and confronted them, one of them said that I fell right in their lap, like they were expecting me to show."

"But Death Eaters show their support to You-Know-Who," said Charlie, confused. "I could see them going after Harry, but why you?"

"That's the thing, I don't know," said Marcus, his brows furrowed. "Could it be that I'm on Voldemort's hit list, or could that have been nothing more than a test? It just doesn't make sense. Then-"

Marcus froze in this moment. He was about to tell Charlie about the most recent dream he had, but then he thought better of it.

"Yes?"

"It's nothing Charlie, don't worry about it." He then asked, "So, after we get dropped off at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, what are you going to do?"

"I have to take care of some business in the U.K."

Marcus looked at Charlie, eyes narrowed. "What kind of work?"

"Can't tell you, obviously," Charlie responded with a smile on his face.

The rest of the ride was silent until they arrived at King's Cross. Marcus tried to hurry and get his stuff before he get completely soaked but, considering how hard the rain was coming down, he failed quite miserably, going into the station drenched from head to toe.

Marcus was quite used to getting onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters by now. It was a simple matter of walking straight through the apparently solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. The only tricky part was doing this in an unobtrusive way, so as to avoid attracting Muggle attention. They did it in groups today; Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione (the most conspicuous, since they were accompanied by Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks) went first; they leaned casually against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly, and slid sideways through it...and as they did so, platform nine and three-quarters materialized in front of them.

The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. Pigwidgeon became nosier than ever in response to the hooting of many owls through the mist. Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off to find seats, and were soon stowing their luggage in a compartment halfway along the train. They then hopped back down onto the platform to say good-bye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie.

"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.

"Why?" said Fred keenly. "You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it...it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.

 _"Why?"_ said George impatiently.

"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it..."

"A bit of _what_?" said Ron.

But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied them toward the train doors.

"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.

"Words can't express my gratitude, Mrs. Weasley," said Marcus.

"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but...well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with...one thing or another."

"Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?"

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -"

Marcus felt yet another wave of deja vu hitting him like a wrecking ball as Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together said, "What rules?"

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you...Now, behave, won't you? _Won't_ you, Fred? And you, George?"

The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move.

"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them. "What rules are they changing?"

But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.

Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to their compartment. The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them. Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pidwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting.

"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what -"

"Shh!" Hermoine whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs. Marcus, Harry, and Ron listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.

"...Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students acutally _learn_ them, not just the defense rubbish we do..."

Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice.

"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she said angrily. "I wish he _had_ gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" said Harry.

"Yes," said Hermione sniffily, "and it's got a horrible reputation. According to _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_ , it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts."

"Come on, Harry, I even told you about there being other Wizarding Schools when we first met," scolded Marcus.

"Oh, right, you did," said Harry.

"I think I've heard of it," said Ron vaguely. "Where is it? What country?"

"Well, nobody knows, do they?" said Hermione, raising her eyebrows.

"Er - why not?" said Harry.

"There's traditionally been a lot of rivarly between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

"Come off it," said Ron, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts - how are you going to hide a great big castle?"

"Ron, Hogwarts _is_ hidden," said Marcus. "Everyone should know that...well, everyone that's read _Hogwarts, A History_ , anyway."

"Just you and Hermione, then," said Ron. "So go on - how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?"

"It's bewitched," said Marcus. "If a Muggle should happen to look upon Hogwarts, all they would see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying _DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE_."

"So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?"

"Maybe," said Hermione, who shrugged at the idea. "or it might have Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable -"

"Come again?" asked Ron.

"Enchanting a building so it's impossible to plot on a map," Marcus explained.

"Er...if you say so," said Harry.

"But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms."

"Ah, think of the possibilities," said Ron dreamily. "It would've been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident...shame his mother likes him..."

The rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farther north. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by midday. The lunch trolley came rattling along the corridor, and Harry bought a large stack of Cauldron Cakes for them to share while Marcus witheld himself from buying anything. Sweets wasn't something Marcus was exactly eager to put into his body.

Several of their friends looked in on them as the afternoon progressed, including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, extremely forgetful boy who had been brought up by his spartan witch of a grandmother. Seamus was still wearing his U.S. rosette. Some of its magic seemed to be wearing off now; it was still squeaking " _Braxton - Jasper - Harley!"_ but in a very feeble and exhausted sort of way. After half an hour or so, Hermione, growing tired of the endless Quidditch talk, buried herself once more in _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_ , and started trying to learn a Summoning Charm.

Neville listened jealously to the others' conversation as they relived the Cup match.

"Gran didn't want to go," he said miserably. "Wouldn't buy tickets. It sounded amazing though."

"It was," said Ron. "Look at this, Neville..."

He rummaged in his trunk up in the luggage rack and pulled out the miniature figure of Viktor Krum.

"Oh _wow_ ," said Neville enviously as Ron tipped Krum onto his pudgy hand.

"We saw him right up close, as well," said Ron. "We were in the Top Box -"

"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley."

Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle, his enormous, thuggish cronies, both of whom appeared to have grown at least a foot during the summer. Evidently they had overheard the conversation through the compartment door, which Dean and Seamus had left ajar.

"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," said Harry coolly.

"Weasley...what is _that_?" said Malfoy, pointing at Pidwidgeon's cage. A sleeve of Ron's dress robes was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, the moldy lace cuff very obvious.

Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Malfoy was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled.

"Look at this!" said Malfoy in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, "Weasley, you weren't thinking of _wearing_ these, were you? I mean - they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety..."

"I'd rather wear those robes than yours, Malfoy," said Marcus, who stood up to face him. "I mean, I can only imagine how shiny and nasty yours are after getting all that hair grease on them."

Malfoy's ear gone slightly pinked at this remark. He recovered quickly, however, and looked at Ron, saying, "So...going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know...you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won..."

"What are you talking about?" snapped Ron.

 _"Are you going to enter?"_ Malfoy repeated. "I suppose _you_ will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you? What about you, old man?"

"I'll enter just to ensure you don't get any undeserved glory," said Marcus, staring down Malfoy.

"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," said Hermione testily, over the top of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_.

A gleeful smile spread across Malfoy's pale face.

"Don't tell me you don't _know_?" he said delightedly. "You've got a father and a brother at the Ministry and you don't even _know_? My God, _my_ father told me about it ages ago...heard it from Cornelius Fudge himself. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry...Maybe your father's too junior to know about it, Weasley...yes...they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him..."

"Better cool yourselves down, people," Marcus said out loud, "There's some hot air blowing around!"

Malfoy got into Marcus' face and said in a low voice, "I wouldn't be so confident if I were you, Marcus Williams. Blood traitors follow closely after Mudbloods, after all."

Marcus wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face, but he knew it wouldn't be worth it.

With gleeful looks on their faces, Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared.

Ron got to his feet and slammed the sliding compartment door so hard behind them that the glass shattered.

 _"Ron!"_ said Hermione reproachfully, and she pulled out her wand, muttered _"Reparo!"_ and the glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door.

"Well...making it look like he knows everything and we don't..." Ron snarled. "' _Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry'..._ Dad could've got a promotion any time...he just likes it where he is..."

"Of course he does," said Hermione quietly. "Don't let Malfoy get to you, Ron -"

"Him! Get to me?! As if!" said Ron, picking up one of the remaining Cauldron Cakes and squashing it into a pulp.

Ron's bad mood continued for the rest of the journey. He didn't talk much as they changed into their school robes, and was still glowering when the Hogwarts Express slowed down at last and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station.

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione bundled up Crookshanks in her cloak and Ron left his dress robes over Pigwidgeon as they left the train, heads bent and eyes narrowed against the downpour. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was though buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied repeatedly over their heads.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry yelled. Marcus looked where Harry was looking to see a gigantic silhouette at the far end of the platform.

"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"

First years traditionally reached Hogwarts Castle by sailing across the lake with Hagrid.

"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," said Hermione feverently, shivering as they inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the school.

As Marcus approached the hundred carriages that were pulled by the dead-looking horses, Marcus heard a familiar voice shout, "Marcus, wait for me!"

"Ah, that must be -" said Marcus who, upon turning around to see the source of the voice, could only find himself saying, "Whoa."

It was Lorelei Flamel, there was no doubt in Marcus' mind. She had the waist-long red hair the color of blood, those sparkling emerald eyes, and her smile that seemed to make diamonds look like pearls. However, she was much taller than before. When they left Hogwarts at the beginning of the summer, she was around four feet eight inches. Now, however, she stood around five feet six inches, just four inches taller than he was.

"Holy crap, Lorelei!" said Marcus. "What happened?! Did you accidently drink Skele-grow?!"

Lorelei's smile grew just a bit wider and said, "I think I'm hitting my growth spurt! Isn't this great, Marcus?"

"Yes, Lorelei, that's fantastic," said Marcus, though he couldn't help but be jealous over her newfound height advantage.

Out of nowhere, he heard another voice say, "Marcus, there you are! Finally!"

Marcus looked to his right to find -

"Cedric!" said Marcus happily. "I was wondering where you were.

"Marcus, who's this?" Lorelei asked.

"I'll make introductions in the carriage," said Marcus. "Here, let's get this one."

So, the three of them grabbed the nearest carriage while Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville took the one behind them. The door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle.

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Feel free to leave a review on this story, as that always helps me refine my skills as a writer. Also, if you have any questions you'd like to ask me, don't hesitate to leave me a PM and, I promise, I'll answer them to the best of my ability. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	12. (12) An Unwanted Challenge

**Hello, everyone, and welcome to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! I'm looking forward to what will be in store for this book from here on, as it'll be very interesting :) Until then...**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing of HP save for OC's.**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter 12: An Unwanted Challenge

 **Enjoy, one and all!**

"So, Marcus, who is he?" asked Lorelei.

"Lorelei Flamel, meet Cedric Diggory, our newest training partner," said Marcus, gesturing to Cedric. "Cedric, this is Lorelei Flamel, who's been my training partner for almost two years."

"Oh, wow, a new training partner?!" said Lorelei, who eagerly shook Cedric's hand and said, "I'm glad you'll be working out with us, Cedric."

"I feel the same way," said Cedric. "Speaking of which, where exactly are we going to train?"

"I'm glad you asked, Cedric," said Marcus with a smirk on his face. "Are you familiar with the seventh floor, the hallway that has a picture of the guy trying to teach the trolls how to dance?"

"Yes, I've seen that before," said Cedric, confused. "Why do you bring that up?"

"Directly across that painting lies a fantastic room called the Room of Requirement," explained Marcus. "All that you need to do to enter the room is pace across the wall three times, all the while thinking about what you want to get out of the room. Once you do that, the door will appear, letting you enter. Inside the room is initially what you asked it for, but it can change upon entering, too."

"Wow!" said Cedric, looking quite eager. "Are we going to get started tonight?!"

"Well, that's the thing," said Marcus. "Lorelei and I don't start training until the day after the Start of Term feast. Now, her and I work out twice a day, but I think that would be too much for you to begin with, Cedric. Plus, you're in your final year of Hogwarts, so I think it would be best if you started coming to our evening workouts."

"Okay, that works out pretty well for me," said Cedric. "What exactly do you do for physical workouts?"

Lorelei told him the list of physical workouts and, by the time she was done, Cedric's eyes were quite large as he said, "Wow, I guess I'm pretty glad I'm only attending one session! What about magical betterment?"

"Well, I try to keep Lorelei spun up on the things I'm currently learning at the time," said Marcus. "I thought about tackling my father's Duplication Spell this year as this year's main project."

"Your father's Duplication Spell?!" said Cedric in shock. "Marcus, there are very few people in the whole Wizarding World that have mastered that spell. It's on the N.E.W.T. exam as extra-credit, it's that hard. What makes you think you can learn it?!"

Marcus looked at Lorelei and said, "You think we can trust him?"

Lorelei, knowing what he was referring to, said, "If you trust him, Marcus, so do I."

Marcus took a deep breath and said, "Well, for starters, I have my father's personal notes on the spell. I managed to steal it over the summer from his study. Also...we're Animagi."

"What?" asked a flabbergasted Cedric.

"I can take the form of a barbary lion, she can take the form of a phoenix," Marcus told him. "Under these forms, we go by Leo and Solaris, respectively."

"You two are seriously Animagi?" Cedric said. When the two of them nodded, Cedric laughed and said, "Oh, my God, I thought I was the only one in the school who was an Animagus!"

It was Marcus' turn to be flabbergasted as he said, "You're an Animagus?!"

"Yeah," said Cedric with a smile. "I'll show you guys, tomorrow night, first workout."

"Well, this should be interesting," said Marcus.

"Also," said Cedric, "I was thinking, maybe I could get your guys' help on some of the more advanced magic I'm going to be learning, too."

"Like what?" Lorelei asked.

"Well, I'll tell you all in further detail when we're in the Room of Requirement," said Cedric. "Right now, it looks like we finally made it."

Marcus looked outside the carriage to find the gates of Hogwarts, flanked with statues of winged boars, as the carriages continued to trundle up the sweeping drive, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Marcus also saw Hogwarts getting nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick current of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage was slowly coming to a halt.

"Oh, Cedric, one more thing," said Marcus. "To get into the Room of Requirement while myself and Lorelei are in it, you must think of this exact sentence: 'I want to make myself better in every way.'"

"Right," said Cedric, who opened the door and yelled to be heard, "See you guys later!"

Once he stepped out, Marcus looked at Lorelei and said, "After you, Lorelei."

Lorelei, looking quite grim, got out of the carriage, Marcus following behind, both of which were running furiously toward the great oak doors that were beyond the flight of stone steps. Marcus could hear the footsteps of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville hurrying after them, all of whom didn't look up until they were inside the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble staircase.

"Blimey," said Ron, shaking his head and sending water everywhere," if that keeps up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soak - ARRGH!"

A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron's head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry. Marcus noticed a second water bomb dropped and, getting Hermione out of the way, caught it in such a way that it didn't explode on contact. He looked up closely and immediately emitted a deep growl; Flying twenty feet in the air, making the students shriek and shove other students so that they could get out of the line of fire, wearing a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie was Peeves the Poltergeist. The wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.

"OH, NO, YOU DON'T!" Marcus roared, who summoned his wand, lifted the water bomb in the air with his right hand, and aimed his wand tip so that Peeves was within the line of fire. " _WADDIWASI!"_

The water bomb zoomed at Peeves, who got blasted in the face with it. He recoiled, going in all directions before regaining himself again. He saw that it was Marcus who did it and said, "Oh, the old geezer wants to play, huh? All right, wee little Williams, let's play!"

Peeves readied another water bomb, aimed at Marcus, who had his wand ready when -

"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"

Professor McGonagall, deputy headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling.

"Ouch - sorry, Miss Granger -"

"That's all right, Professor!" Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.

"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

"Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hal. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

"I shall call the headmaster!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "I'm warning you, Peeves -"

Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.

"Well, move along, then!" said Professor McGonagall sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"

Marcus, Lorelei, Harry, Ron, and Hermione slipped and slid across the entrance hall and through the double doors on the right, Ron muttering furiously under his breath as he pushed his sopping hair off his face.

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here. Marcus, Lorelei, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Pearly white and semitransparent, Nick was dressed tonight in his usual doublet, but with a particularly large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking extra-festive and insuring that his head didn't wobble too much on his partially severed neck.

"Good evening," he said, beaming at them.

"Says who?" said Marcus and Harry. Marcus took off his sneakers and starting emptying them of water while Harry said, "Hope they hurry up with the Sorting. I'm starving."

The Sorting of the new students into Houses took place at the start of every school year, but Marcus wasn't exactly eager for the song, as he had been present for it every year so far. Just then, a highly excited, breathless voice called down the table.

"Hiya, Harry! Hiya, Marcus!"

It was Colin Creevey, a third year to whom Harry and Marcus were something of heroes.

"Hi, Colin," said Marcus and Harry at the same time in a warily way.

"Harry, Marcus, guess what? Guess what, guys? My brother's starting! My brother Dennis!"

"Er - good," said Harry.

"He's really excited!" said Colin, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. "I just hope he's in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry, Marcus?"

"Er - yeah, all right," said Harry. He turned back to Marcus, Lorelei, Ron, Hermione, and Nearly Headless Nick. "Brothers and sisters usually go in the same Houses, don't they?" he said.

"Oh no, not necessarily," said Hermione. "Parvati Patil's twin's in Ravenclaw, and they're identical. You'd think they'd be together, wouldn't you?"

"Well, here's hoping Creevey's brother doesn't end up in Gryffindor," said Marcus in an undertone. "I'm not sure if I could stomach that."

Marcus then looked up at the staff table. There seemed to be rather more empty seats there than usual. Hagrid wasn't there, but that was to be expected, considering he was currently fighting his way across the lake with the first years; Professor McGonagall, Marcus surmised, was overseeing the drying of the entrance hall floor, but there was an additional empty chair, and Marcus couldn't think of who else was missing.

"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Hermione, who was also looking up at the teachers.

They had never yet had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had lasted more than three terms. Marcus' favorite, bar none, was his Uncle Remus, who resigned last year due to the loose lips of a certain oily git. As Marcus surveyed the staff table, he didn't spot any new faces.

"Maybe they couldn't get anyone!" said Hermione, looking anxious.

Marcus surveyed the table again, this time giving it a closer look. Tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, whose hat was askew over her flyaway gray hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. On Professor Sinistra's other side was the sallow-faced, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Potions master, Snape - one of Marcus' top-listed hated people, even a little bit above Peeves. Though they did not get along well, Snape loathed Harry the most in the entire school, a hatred that, if possible, intensified last year, when Marcus and Harry helped Sirius escape right under Snape's overlarge nose - Snape and Sirius had been enemies since their own school days.

On Snape's other side was an empty seat, which Marcus guessed was Professor McGonagall's. Next to it, and in the very center of the table,sat Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons. The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together and he was resting his chin upon them, staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles as though lost in thought. Gripped by curiosity, Marcus glanced up at the ceiling. It was enchanted to look like the night sky, but he never remembered it looking as stormy as it was now. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it.

"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, beside Harry, "I could eat a hippogriff."

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. If Marcus, Lorelei, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were wet, it was nothing to how these first years looked. They appeared to have swam across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school - all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in what Marcus recognized as Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it looked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited. When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, _I fell in the lake!_ He looked positively delighted about it.

Professor McGonagall now placed a four-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song:

 _A thousand years or more ago, When I was newly sewn, There lived four wizards of renown, Whose names are still well known:_

 _Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor, Fair Ravenclaw, from glen, Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad, Shrewd Slytherin, from fen._

 _They shared a wish, a hope, a dream, They hatched a daring plan to educate young sorcerers Thus Hogwarts School began._

 _Now each of these four founders formed their own House, for each did value different virtues In the ones they had to teach._

 _By Gryffindor, the bravest were Prized far beyond the rest; For Ravenclaw, the cleverest would always be the best; For Hufflepuff, hard workers were most worthy of admission; And power-hungry Slytherin loved those of great ambition._

 _While still alive they did divide their favorites from the throng, yet how to pick the worthy ones when they were dead and gone? 'Twas Gryffindor who found the way, he whipped me off his head. The founders put some brains in me so I could choose instead!_

 _Now slip me snug about your ears, I've never yet been wrong, I'll have a look inside your mind and tell you where you belong!_

The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished.

"That's not the song it sang when it Sorted us," Marcus heard Harry say, clapping along with everyone else.

"Sings a different one every year," said Ron. "It's got to be a pretty boring life, hasn't it, being a hat? I suppose it spends all year making up the next one."

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table."

"Ackerley, Stewart!"

A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat.

Stewart Ackerley took off the hat and hurried into a seat at the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was applausing him.

"Baddock, Malcolm!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The tabe on the other side of the hall erupted with cheers; Marcus could see Malfoy clapping as Baddock joined the Slytherins. Marcus had the slightest curiosity as to whether or not Baddock knew that the Slytherin House turned out more Dark magic folk than any other house. Fred and George hissed Malcolm Baddock as he sat down.

"Branstone, Eleanor!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Cauldwell, Owen!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Creevey, Dennis!"

Tiny Dennis Creevey staggered forward, tripping over Hagrid's moleskin, just as Hagrid himself sidled into the Hall through a door behind the teachers' table. About twice as tall as a normal man, and three times as broad, Hagrid, with his long, wild, tangled black hair and beard, looked slightly alarming - a misleading impression, of course, because Marcus, Lorelei, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all knew Hagrid to possess a kind nature. He winked at them as he sat down at the end of the staff table and watched Dennis Creevey putting on the Sorting Hat. The rip at the brim opened wide -

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted.

Hagrid clapped along with the Gryffindors as Dennis Creevey, beaming widely, took off the hat, placed it back on the stool, and hurried over to join his brother.

"Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"

"Cool!" said Colin, just as excitedly. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"

" _Wow!"_ said Dennis, as though nobody in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed, fathoms-deep lake, and pushed out of it by a giant sea monster.

"Dennis! Dennis! See those two boys down there? The one with the black hair and glasses and the other with the snow white hair? See them? _Know who they are, Dennis?"_

Marcus softly groaned as he gave his forced undivided attention to the Sorting Hat, now Sorting Emma Dobbs.

The Sorting continued: boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to the four-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the L's.

"Oh, hurry up," Ron moaned, massaging his stomach.

"Now, Ron, the Sorting's much more important than food," said Nearly Headless Nick as "Madley, Laura!" became a Hufflepuff.

"Of course it is, if you're dead," snapped Marcus.

"I do hope this year's batch of Gryffindors are up to scratch," said Nearly Headless Nick, applauding as "McDonald, Natalie!" joined the Gryffindor table. "We don't want to break our winning streak, do we?"

Gryffindor had won the Inter-House Championship for the last three years in a row.

"Pritchard, Graham!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Quirke, Orla!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

"About time," said Ron, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. _"Tuck in."_

"Hear, hear!" said Marcus, Harry, and Ron loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.

"Aaah, 'at's be'er," said Ron, with his mouth full of mashed potato.

"You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know," said Nearly Headless Nick. "There was trouble in the kitchens earlier."

"Why? Wha' 'appened?" asked Harry, through a sizable chunk of steak.

"Peeves, of course," said Nearly Headless Nick, shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously. He pulled his ruff a little higher up on his neck. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast - well, quite out of the question, you know what he's like, utterly uncivilized, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghost's council - the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance - but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down."

The Bloody Baron was the Slytherin ghost, a gaunt and silent specter covered in silver bloodstains. He was the only person in Hogwarts who could really control Peeves.

"Yeah, we thought Peeves seemed hacked off about something," said Marcus darkly. "So what did he do in the kitchens?"

"Oh the usual," said Nearly Headless Nick, shrugging. "Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits -"

 _Clang._

Hermione had knocked over her golden goblet. Pumpkin juice spread steadily over the tablecloth, staining several feet of white linen orange, but Hermione paid no attention.

"There are house-elves _here_?" she said, staring, horror-struck, at Nearly Headless Nick. "Here at _Hogwarts_?"

"Certainly," said Nearly Headless Nick, looking surprised at her reaction. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."

"I've never seen one!" said Hermione.

"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?" said Nearly Headless Nick. "They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning...see to the fires and so on...I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"

Hermione stared at him.

"But they get _paid_?" she said. "They get _holidays_ , don't they? And - and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?"

Nearly Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghostly skin and muscle that still attached it to his neck.

"Sick leave and pensions?" he said, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it once more with his ruff. "House-elves don't want sick leave and pensions!"

Hermione looked down at her hardly touched plate of food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and pushed it away from her.

"Oh c'mon, 'Er-my-knee," said Ron, accidentally spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding. "Oops - sorry, 'Arry -" he swallowed. "You won't get them sick leave by starving yourself!"

"Slave labor," said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. _Slave labor."_

And she refused to eat another bite.

The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.

"Treacle tart, Hermione!" said Ron, deliberately wafting its smell toward her. "Spotted dick, look! Chocolate gateau!"

But Marcus saw Hermione give Ron a look so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that he gave up.

When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plate, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered," ("Humph!" said Hermione) "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

The corner of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

" _What?"_ Marcus gasped in horror. Marcus looked around to Harry, Fred and George, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a great long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hiar, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull _clunk_ echoed through the Hall on his ever other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Hermione gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Marcus had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Marcus wasn't able to hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausage, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

"Moody?" Marcus heard Harry muttering to Ron. " _Mad-Eye Moody?_ The one your dad went to help this morning?"

"Must be," said Ron in a low, awed voice.

"What happened to him?" Hermione whispered. "What happened to his _face_?"

"Dunno," Ron whispered back, watching Moody with fascination.

Marcus knew that, while only seeing Mad-Eye Moody for the first time, his scars were attesting to the grueling side of being an Auror, that it was not all office work and pointless political banter. Moody seemed to be completely unfazed by his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Marcus saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am _not_ joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar..."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er - but maybe this is not the time...no..." said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament...well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those that _do_ know will forgive me for giving a short explanation and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

" _Death toll?"_ Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. Marcus, upon hearing Dumbledore's announcement of the Triwizard Tournament, felt a mixture of apprehension and anger. He had done his fair share of research of the Triwizard Tournament in his spare time, and he found himself appalled that they decided to bring it back. However, the rest of the student body did not share the same sentiment; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own Department of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided that the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.

"The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of glory and riches. Marcus noticed that Fred was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Marcus could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts, " he said, "the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This" Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious - "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

"They can't do that!" said George Weasley, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

"They're not stopping me entering," said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. "The champion'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

"Yeah," said Ron, a faraway look his face. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons..."

"Well, everyone else can go and pine after that crazy tournament," said Marcus, sounding quite angry.

"Marcus, you sound as if you don't want the Triwizard Tournament to take place," said Lorelei, who sound shocked.

"I've done my research on the tournament," said Marcus bitterly. "Let's just say the reading content didn't skimp on the details."

"Come on," said Hermione. "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."

Marcus, Lorelei, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred and George set off for the entrance hall, Fred and George debating the ways in which Dumbledore might stop those who were under seventeen from entering the tournament.

"But, Marcus, just think of it: One thousand galleons, just for winning the tournament!" Ron said.

"I can acculmulate that by winning my bets with Mr. Booker," Marcus flatly said.

"You could achieve unprecedented glory, old geezer!" said Fred and George.

"I don't want that much attention to myself," Marcus said with the same flat tone. "I already get enough unwanted attention from people."

"Well, you could consider it the best challenge you'll get to test your skills and progress," said Lorelei.

Marcus turned to her and said, "There's a difference between taking on a challenge and marching straight to your death. The lot of them were fools to bring back the Triwizard Tournament, mark my words."

"How come you're so against the tournament, Marcus?" Hermione asked. "I thought for sure something like this would be perfect for you."

"Call it a bad feeling," said Marcus. "Regardless, there's no way that my name'll be thrown into that goblet."

"Huh?" said everyone else.

Marcus, quite confused by what he said, recovered and stated, "It's just a figure of speech."

"So who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" said Harry.

"Dunno," said Fred. "but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple drops of Aging Potion might do it, George..."

"Dumbledore knows you're not of age," said Ron.

"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?" said Fred shrewdly. "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names."

"People have died, though!" said Hermione in a worried voice as they walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower staircase.

"Yeah," said Fred airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk? Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"

"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Harry. "Be cool to enter wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older...Dunno if we've learned enough..."

"I definitely haven't," came Neville's gloomy voice from behind Fred and George.

"I expect my gran'd want me to try, though. She's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honor. I'll just have to - oops..."

Neville's foot had sunk right through a step halfway up the staircase. There were many of these trick stairs at Hogwarts; it was second nature to most of the older students to jump this particular step, but Neville's memory was easily the worst Marcus had ever known. Marcus, Harry, and Ron seized him under the armpits and pulled him out, while a suit of armor at the top of the stairs creaked and clanked, laughing wheezily.

"Shut up, tin can!" said Marcus as he forced its visor down as they passed.

They made their way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said as they approached.

"Balderdash," said George, "a prefect downstairs told me."

The portrait swung foward to reveal a hole in the wall through which they all climbed. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of squashy armchairs and tables. Hermione cast the merrily dancing flames a dark look, and Marcus distinctly heard her mutter _"Slave labor,"_ before bidding them good night and disappearing through the doorway to the girls' dormitory.

After bidding Lorelei good night, Marcus followed Harry, Ron, and Neville up the last spiral staircase until they reached their own dormitory, which was situated at the top of the tower. Six four-poster beds with deep crimson hangings stood against the walls, each with its owner's trunk at the foot. Dean and Seamus were already getting into bed; Seamus had pinned his U.S. rosette to the headboard, and Dean had tacked up a poster of Viktor Krum over his beside table. His old poster of the West Ham football team was pinned right next to it.

"Mental," Ron sighed, shaking his head at the completely stationary soccer players.

As Marcus changed into his pajamas alongside Harry, Ron, and Neville, Twink flew out of his designated pocket and rested onto Marcus's left shoulder once he got his top on. Getting into his bed, Marcus noticed that someone - a house-elf, no doubt - had placed warming pans between the sheets. It was extremely comfortable, lying there in bed and listening to the storm raging outside.

"I might go for it, you know," Ron said sleepily, through the darkness, "if Fred and George find out how to...the tournament...you never know, do you?"

"S'pose not..."

Marcus scoffed as he thought, _"Let them try to enter that tournament. I have better things to focus on."_

He then fell asleep on his pillow, Twink laying next to him, as he drifted away, still carrying the foreboding feeling of doom...

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Feel free to leave a review on this story, as this always helps me refine my skills as a writer. Also, if you want to ask me any questions, feel free to leave me a PM and, I promise, I will answer them to the best of my ability! Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	13. (13) One Crazy Death Stare

**Welcome, everyone, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Not much to note here except...**

 **Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing of HP save for OC's.**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter 13: One Crazy Death Stare

 **Enjoy, one and all!**

By the time Marcus and Lorelei had finished with their workout the following morning, the storm had blown over. Though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione examined their new course schedules at breakfast. A few seats along, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were discussing magical methods of aging themselves and bluffing their way into the Triwzard Tournament.

"Today's not bad...outside all morning," said Ron, who was running his finger down the Monday column of his schedule. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures...damn it, we're still with the Slytherins..."

"Oh, come on, double Divinations this afternoon?!" Marcus groaned in agony, looking at his schedule. Divinations was his second least favorite class, and that was only by a small margin, his least favorite being Potions. Not only was Professor Trelawney, in Marcus' opinion, a complete fraud, but she would unnecessarily laud over his work in the class on top of predicting Harry's death once ever ten seconds, something that both boys found extremely annoying.

"You should have given it up like me, shouldn't you?" said Hermione briskly, buttering herself some toast. "Then you'd be doing something sensible, like Arithmancy."

"You're eating again, I notice," said Ron, watching Hermione adding liberal amounts of jam to her toast too.

"I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights," said Hermione haughtily.

"That, and you got hungry," said Marcus, smirking at the irony.

There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. Marcus looked up to find his owl, Archie, approachinng him with a letter tied to his left leg.

"Thanks for the letter, Archie," said Marcus as he untied the letter upon landing. "Help yourself to a couple of bites of breakfast, then take a rest in the Owlery."

As Archie flew off and Marcus tucked his letter away to read later, a large tawny owl soared down to Neville Longbottom and desposited a parcel into his lap - Neville almost always forgotten to pack something. On the other side of the Hall, Draco Malfoy's eagle owl had landed on his shoulder, carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets and cakes from home.

Marcus couldn't stop thinking just what things Cedric could bring to the workouts until him and his classmates arrived at greenhouse three. It was here that Professor Sprout was showing the class the ugliest plants Marcus had ever seen. It looked more thick, black, giant slugs than actual plants, the way they were protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.

"Bubotubers," Professor Sprout told them briskly. "They need squeezing. You will collect the pus -"

"The _what_?" said Seamus Finnigan, sounding revolted.

"Pus, Finnigan, pus," said Professor Sprout, "and it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus."

Squeezing the bubotubers was disgusting, to say the least, but it was also oddly satisfying. As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol. They caught it in the bottles as Professor Sprout had indicated, and by the end of the lesson had collected several pints.

"This'll keep Madam Pomfrey happy," said Professor Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. "An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples."

"Like poor Eloise Midgen," said Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. "She tried to curse hers off."

"Silly girl," said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. "But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end."

A booming bell echoed from the castle across the wet grounds, signaling the end of the lesson, and the class separated; the Hufflepuffs climbing the stone steps for Transfiguration, and the Gryffindors heading in the other direction, down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's small wooden cabin, which stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid was standing outside his hut, one hand on the collar of his enormous black boarhound, Fang. There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his collar,apparently keen to investigate the contents more closely. As they drew nearer, an odd rattling noise reached their ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions.

"Mornin'!" Hagrid said, grinning at Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Be'er wait fer the Slytherins, they won' want ter miss this - Blast Ended Skrewts!"

"Come again?" said Ron.

Hagrid pointed down into the crates.

"Eurgh!" squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backward.

"Eurgh" was a mild way of thinking when it came to the Blast-Ended Skrewts, in Marcus' opinion. They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish, something that was making Marcus unusally nauseous. Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small _phut_ , it would be propelled foward several inches.

"On'y jus' hatched," said Hagrid proudly, "so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!"

"And why would we _want_ to raise them?" said a cold voice.

The Slytherins had arrived. The speaker was Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling appreciatively at his words.

Hagrid looked stumped at the question.

"I mean, what do they _do_?" asked Malfoy. "What is the _point_ of them?"

Hagrid opened his mouth, apparently thinking hard; there was a few seconds' pause, then he said roughly, "Tha's next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus' feedin' 'em today. Now, yeh'll wan' ter try 'em on a few diff'rent things - I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer - I got ant eggs an' frog livers an' a bit o' grass snake - just try 'em out with a bit of each."

"First pus and now this," muttered Seamus.

Nothing but deep affection for Hagrid could have made Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione pick up squelchy handfuls of frog liver and lower them into the crates to tempt the Blast-Ended Skrewts. Marcus had a great suspicion that trying to feed the Blast-Ended Skrewts was pointless, considering they didn't seem to have mouths.

 _"Ouch!"_ yelled Dean Thomas after about ten minutes. "It got me!"

Hagrid hurried over to him, looking anxious.

"Its end exploded!" said Dean angrily, showing Hagrid a burn on his hand.

"Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off," said Hagrid, nodding.

"Eurgh!" said Lavender Brown again. "Eurgh, Hagrid, what's that pointy thing on it?"

"Ah, some of 'em have got stings," said Hagrid enthusiastically (Lavender quickly withdrew her hand from the box). "I reckon they're the males...The females've got sorta sucker things on their bellies...I think they might be ter suck blood."

"Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive," said Malfoy sarcastically. "Who would want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?"

"Just because they're not very pretty, it doesn't mean they're not useful," Hermione snapped. "Dragon's blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?"

Marcus, Harry, and Ron grinned at Hagrid, who gave them a furtive smile from behind his bushy beard. Hagrid would have liked nothing better than a pet dragon, as the four of them knew only too well - he had owned one for a brief period during their first year, a vicious Norweigen Ridgeback by the name of Norbert. Hagrid simply loved monstrous creatures. The more lethal they were, the better they were in Hagrid's eyes.

"Well, at least the skrewts are small," said Ron as they made their way back up to the castle for lunch an hour later.

"They are _now_ ," said Hermione in an exasperated voice, "but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long."

"Well, that won't matter if they turn out to cure seasickness of something, will it?" said Ron, grinning slyly at her.

"You know perfectly well I only said that to shut Malfoy up," said Hermione. "As a matter of fact I think he's right. The best thing to do would be to stamp on the lot of them before they start attacking us all."

They sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to lamb chops and potatoes. Hermione began to eat so fast that Marcus, Harry, and Ron stared at her.

"Er - this wouldn't happen to be the new stand on elf rights, is it?" asked Marcus. "You're going to make yourself puke instead?"

"No," said Hermione, with as much dignity as she could muster with her mouth bulging with sprouts. "I just want to get to the library."

 _"What?"_ said Ron in disbelief. "Hermione - it's the first day back! We haven't even got homework yet!"

Hermione shrugged and continued to shovel down her food as though she had not eaten for days. Then she leapt to her feet, said, "See you at dinner!" and departed at high speed.

When the bell rang to signal the start of afternoon lessons, Marcus, Harry, and Ron set off for North Tower where, at the top of a tightly spiraling staircase, a silver stepladder led to a circular trapdoor in the ceiling, and the room where Professor Trelawney lived.

The familiar sweet perfume spreading from the fire met their nostrils as they emerged at the top of the stepladder. As ever, the curtains were all closed; the circular room was bathed in a dim reddish light cast by the many lamps, which were all draped with scarves and shawls. Marcus, Harry, and Ron walked through the mass of occupied chintz chair and poufs that cluttered the room, and sat down at the same small circular table.

"Good day," said the misty voice of Professor Trelawney right behind Harry, making Harry jump.

A very thin woman with enormous glasses that made her eyes appear far too large for her face, Professor Trelawney was peering down at Harry with the tragic expression she always wore whenever she saw him. The usual large amounts of beads, chains, and bangles glittered upon her person in the firelight.

"You are preoccupied, my dear," she said mournfully to Harry. "My inner eye see past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead of you, alas...most difficult...I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass...and perhaps sooner than you think..."

She then looked at Marcus and, instead of dawning a look of joy, kept the same, somber look she ususally had for Harry, which set Marcus on edge.

"I fear that your future is not as different as young Harry, young Marcus," she said in a rather low whisper. "You will be burdened...yes, quite burdened...burdened with knowledge and unwanted truths. Beware your past...for it will catch up to you before you realize it."

While Ron rolled his eyes and Harry gave Professor Trelawney a stony look, Marcus felt a rather cold chill up his spine. Professor Trelawney swept past them and seated herself in a large winged armchair before the fire, facing the class. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who deeply admired Professor Trelawney, were sitting on poufs very close to her.

"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," she said. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle..."

It was here that Marcus' mind started to wander. Did Professor Trelawney, by chance, know what had been going on with Marcus recently? What exactly did she mean when she said that his past would catch up to him before he knew it?

Marcus was in very deep thought about these things. So deep, in fact, that it caught him off guard when Ron muttered, _"Harry!"_

Marcus focused back to reality just in time to hear Harry say, "What?"

Marcus looked around to notice that all eyes were on Harry. Harry, having almost dozed off, sat up straight.

"I was saying, my dear, that you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn," said Professor Trelawney, a faint note of resentment in her voice at the fact that he had obviously not been hanging on to her words.

"Born under - what, sorry?" said Harry.

"Saturn, my dear, the planet Saturn!" said Professor Trelawney, sounding definitely irritated that he wasn't riveted by this news. "I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth...Your dark hair...your mean stature...tragic losses so young in life...I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"

"No," said Harry. "I was born in July."

Marcus merely facepalmed while Ron hastily turned his laugh into a hacking cough.

Half an hour later, each of them had been given a complicated circular chart, and was attempting to fill in the position of the planets at their moment of birth. It was dull work, requiring much consultation of timetables and calculation angles.

"I've got two Neptunes here," said Harry after a while, frowning down at his piece of parchment, "that can't be right, can it?"

"Aaaaah," said Ron, imitating Professor Trelawney's mystical whisper," when two Neptunes appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being born, Harry..."

Seamus and Dean, who were working nearby, sniggered loudly, though not loudly enough to mask the excited squeals from Lavender Brown - "Oh Professor, look! I think I've got an unaspected planet! Oooh, which one's that, Professor?"

"It is Uranus, my dear," said Professor Trelawney, peering down at the chart.

"Can I have a look at Uranus too, Lavender?" said Ron.

Most unfortunately, Professor Trelawney heard him, and it was this, perhaps, that made her give them so much homework at the end of the class.

"A detailed analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming month will affect you, with reference to your personal chart," she snapped, sounding much more like Professor McGonagall than her usual airy-fairy self. "I want it ready to hand in next Monday, and no excuses!"

"Miserable old bat," said Ron bitterly as they joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner. "That'll take all weekend, that will..."

"Perhaps this will serve as a good reminder to keep such remarks to yourself, Ron," growled Marcus, who was quite angry for having to get stuck with an unneccesarily atrocious homework assignment over the weekend.

Ron gave him a death stare, but didn't do anything else, considering how right Marcus was.

"Lots of homework?" said Hermione brightly, catching up with them. "Professor Vector didn't give _us_ any at all!"

"Well, bully for Professor Vector," said Ron moodily.

They reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queing for dinner. They had just joined the end of the line, when a loud voice rang out behind them.

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.

"What?" said Ron shortly.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this!"

 **FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, _writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent_. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

Malfoy looked up.

"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowed.

Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:

Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policeman") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policeman, but refused to answer _Daily Prophet_ questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house - if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," said Harry.

"Yeah, come on, Ron," said Marcus, his bad mood worsening by the second. "We shouldn't be wasting our time with an idiot like him."

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, boys?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

"You know _your_ mother, Malfoy?" said Harry - both he and Marcus had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy - "that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose?"

"Yeah, I was wondering that myself," said Marcus very loudly. "Has your mother always looked like that, or is it from having to constantly smell your bullshit?"

Malfoy's pale face went pink at this remark.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter, Williams!"

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said the two boys at the same time, turning away.

BANG!

Several people screamed - Marcus felt something white-hot graze the side of his face. Having already summoned his wand just in case, he started to whip himself around to face Malfoy. He hadn't fully turned around before he heard a second loud BANG go off, and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Marcus turned to the source of the voice to find Professor Moody limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.

There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Marcus and Harry - at least, his normal eye was looking between the both of them; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.

"Did he get you two?" Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly.

"No," said Harry. "Missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.

"Leave - what?" asked Marcus, caught off guard.

"Not you - him!" Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.

Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again - it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do..."

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.

"Never - do - that - again -" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

"Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice.

Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

"What - what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach - Moody, _is that a student_?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

"Yep," said Moody.

"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got on his feet, wincing.

"Moody, we _never_ use transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall weakly. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock -"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"

"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.

Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinguishable.

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull _clunk_ of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy...You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son...you tell him that from me...Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"Yes," said Malfoy resentfully.

"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape...Come on, you..."

And, as he seized Malfoy's upper arm, Professor Moody looked back at Marcus, both eyes fixed upon him, his natural eye with a dangerous narrowing, like it was _him_ that instigated the whole mess, but Marcus knew that there was more to the teacher's crazy death stare than he knew at the moment.

After Professor Moody marched Malfoy off toward the dungeons, Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.

"Don't talk to me," Ron said quietly to Marcus, Harry, and Hermione as they sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later, surrounded by excited talk on all sides about what had just happened.

"Why not?" asked Hermione in surprise.

"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret..."

Marcus, Harry, and Hermione all laughed, and Hermione began dolling beef casserole onto each of their plates.

"He could have really hurt Malfoy, though," she said. "It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it -"

"Hermione!" said Ron furiously, his eyes snapping open again, "you're ruining the best moment of my life!"

Hermione made an impatient noise and began to eat at top speed again.

"Are you seriously going to go to the library again?!" said Marcus.

"Got to," said Hermione thickly. "Loads to do."

"But you told us Professor Vector -"

"It's not schoolwork," she said. Within five minutes, she had cleared her plate and departed. No sooner had she gone than her seat was taken by Fred Weasley.

"Moody!" he said. "How cool is he?"

"Beyond cool," said George, sitting down opposite Fred.

"Supercool," said the twins' best friend, Lee Jordan, sliding into the seat beside George. "We had him this afternoon," he told Marcus, Harry, and Ron.

"What was it like?" said Harry eagerly.

Fred, George, and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning.

"Never had a lesson like it," said Fred.

"He _knows_ , man," said Lee.

"Knows what?" said Ron, leaning forward.

"Knows what it's like to be out there _doing_ it," said George impressively.

"Doing what?" said Harry.

"Fighting the Dark Arts," said Fred.

"He's seen it all," said George.

"'Mazing," said Lee.

Marcus dove into his bag for his schedule.

"We don't have him on our schedule until Thursday!" growled Marcus in sheer anger at his misfortune.

* * *

Later that evening, Marcus and Lorelei were waiting in the Room of Requirement for Cedric Diggory.

"You don't think Cedric doesn't know where the Room of Requirement is, do you?" said Lorelei.

"I gave him some pretty clear instructions on how to get here," said Marcus, stroking his chin in thought. "I doubt he got lost."

Just then, they heard a door being opened and the two of them turned to find Cedric walking in.

"There you are, Cedric!" said Marcus with a grin on his face. "We were just wondering where you were."

As Cedric was closing the door, he replied, "I got held up by some of my classmates wondering where I was heading off towards. I finally managed to tell them I was going to the library for casual reading."

"Huh, that's pretty clever," said Marcus.

"So, before we begin, can we see your Animagus form?" asked Lorelei excitedly.

"Oh, right, my Animagus form," said Cedric with an sheepish look on his face. However, before their eyes, he shifted into a wolf.

It wasn't just any wolf, either. It was a grey wolf that had the most beautiful coat of fur Marcus had ever seen, with eyes that seemed to be quite vicious.

He shifted back rather quickly and said, "Yeah, so I actually started to do my research on Animagi around seven years old. When I got to Hogwarts, I started implementing what I learned about being an Animgus. I only succeeded last year, truth be told, but I happen to sneak off and go around Hogwarts whenever I get the chance, just to get some quality time to myself. So, now that I've shown you my Animagus form, let me see yours."

"Fair enough," said Lorelei and the two of shifted into their Animagus forms; Marcus took the form of the barbary lion, Leo, while Lorelei took the form of her phoenix, Solaris.

They were in their Animagus forms for only a few seconds and, when they shifted back, Cedric said, "Wow, you guys have such impressive forms!"

"Yours is, by no means, ordinary, Cedric," said Lorelei. "Do you have a name for your form?"

"Hmm, I've never thought about it," said Cedric, who rubbed his chin in thought until he suddenly said, "I think I'll name my form Orion, after the hunter."

"That's quite an apt name, Cedric," said Lorelei with a smile.

"Yes, speaking of which, shall we get training?" asked Marcus.

"Oh, yes, of course," said Cedric. "I thought we'd try our hands on magic first."

"That's right, we were going to learn some new magic together," said Lorelei. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, besides learning the Duplication Spell together, I thought I would try to help you guys learn your affinities," Cedric stated.

"Huh?" said Marcus and Lorelei at the same time.

"Your affinities," Cedric repeated. "Here, I'll explain."

Cedric then got out his wand with his right hand and said, "A witch or wizard's affinity is any given person's best magical aspect. Now, each witch or wizard's affinity is almost always different and unique from everyone elses. It can be a certain spell, or magical subject such as Transfiguration, or it can even be an element of the planet. For example -"

Cedric stuck his wand straight above him and, without saying anything, water started to swirl downwards and around him, wrapping around him like a cascading spring.

"- my affinity is the element of water," Cedric finished.

He disappated the water and Lorelei said, "Cedric, that's so cool!"

"Yeah, it is!" said Marcus, extremely impressed. "How do we go about learning ours?!"

"The first thing that must be done is clearing your mind," said Cedric. "Think nothing else, only looking deep within yourself. Find yourself and everything that you stand for. When you figure this out, you're ready to discover your affinity. Now, this took me years to accomplish and I'm not expecting either of you to successfully get it on the first try.

"Well, let's not just sit here and talk about it!" said Marcus. "Let's get started!"

"Right," said Cedric with a smile. "Let's begin!"

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review on this story, as this helps me refine my skills as a writer! Or, if you want to ask me any questions, please don't hesitate to send me a PM and, I promise, I will answer your questions to the best of my abilities! Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next exciting chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	14. (14) Cursed Reminders

**Hello, everyone, and welcome to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Sorry that it took longer to post this chapter than usual. Life has just been trying to get in my way, it seems. However, I'm glad to have the chance to continue with this story. Also...**

 **Disclaimer: Save for the OC's, I have no ownership of HP.**

 **With that, here's...**

Chapter 14: Cursed Reminders

 **Enjoy, one and all!**

The next two days passed by without great incident, unless you counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron. Professor Snape, who seemed to have gained a new level of vindictiveness over the summer, gave Neville detention, and Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads.

"You know why Snape's in such a foul mood, don't you?" said Ron to Marcus and Harry as they watched Hermione teaching Neville a Scouring Charm to remove the frog guts from under his fingernails.

"Yeah, Moody," said the two boys at the same time.

Everyone in Hogwarts knew that Snape coveted the Dark Arts job, and he failed to get it for four years in a row. Snape had disliked all of their previous Dark Arts teachers, and shown it - but he seemed oddly wary of displaying any signs of animosity towards Mad-Eye Moody. This strange act showed best whenever the two of them were together - at mealtimes, or when they passed in the corridors - Marcus was under a heavy impression that Snape was avoiding Moody's eye, magical or normal.

"I reckon Snape's a bit scared of him, you know," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Can't exactly blame the git, regardless," said Marcus. "I mean, Professor Moody's not exactly giving off rainbows and bunnies."

"Imagine if Moody turned Snape into a horned toad," said Ron, his eyes misting over, "and bounced him all around his dungeon..."

The Gryffindor fourth years were looking forward to Moody's first lesson so much that they arrived early on Thursday lunchtime and queued up outside his classroom before the bell had even rung. The only person missing was Hermione, who turned up just in time for the lesson.

"Been in the -"

"Library." Harry finished her sentence for her. "C'mon, quick, or we won't get decent seats."

They hurried into four chairs right in front of the desk, took out their copies of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection,_ and waited, unusually quiet. Soon they heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.

"You can put those away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, "those books. You won't need them."

They returned the book to their bags, Ron looking excited.

Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.

"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures - you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you're behind - very behind - on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark -"

"What, aren't you staying?" Ron blurted out.

Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a Moody smiled - the first (and hopefully last) time Marcus seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was somewhat reassuring to Marcus that the man knew how to do so. Ron looked deeply relieved.

"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago...Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore...One year, and then back to my retirement."

He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

"So - straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."

Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head, something that didn't exactly sit well with Marcus.

"So...do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Marcus', Ron's and Hermione's. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.

"Er," said Ron with hesistation, "my dad told me about one...Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"

"Ah, yes," said Moody appreciatively. "Your father _would_ know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Marcus felt Ron recoil slightly next to him - Ron hated spiders.

Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, _"Imperio!"_

The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.

Everyone was laughing except Marcus, who knew the seriousness behind the Imperius Curse. He couldn't help but give an almost silent growl at the helplessness of the spider.

Moody wasn't laughing either.

"Think it's funny, do you?" he growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died away almost instantly.

"Total control," said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats..."

Ron gave an involuntary shudder.

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," said Moody, and Marcus knew that he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.

"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"

Hermione's hand flew into the air and so, to Marcus' great surprise, did Neville's. The only class in which Neville usually volunteered information was Herbology, which was easily his best subject. Neville looked surprised at his own daring.

"Yes?" said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.

"There's one - the Cruciatus Curse," said Neville in a small but distinct voice.

Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.

"Your name's Longbottom?" he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.

Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

"The Cruciatus Curse," said Moody. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he said, pointing his wand at the spider. _"Engorgio!"_

The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushed his chair backward, as far away from Moody's desk as possible.

Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, _"Crucio!"_

At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Marcus knew that if sound did come from the spider, it would be screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently -

"Stop it!" Hermione shrilly.

Marcus, on the verge of releasing his anger, was startled back into reality as he looked at Hermione. She was looking, not at the spider, but at Neville, and Marcus, following her gaze, saw that Neville's hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified.

Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.

 _"Reducio_ , _"_ Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.

"Pain," said Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse...there's one person in this room that has been subjected to it, and his name is Marcus Williams."

Marcus could feel the sudden gazes from all his classmates, his own anger rising up again. Marcus knew what Moody was referring to.

During his fifth birthday, back when he was living in the U.S., he was spending time with his babysitter Orielle Caldwater while his parents went into town to pick up his last present. During this time, the Dark Prince showed up out of nowhere and killed his babysitter in cold blood. After that, the Dark Prince proceeded to immobilize him in the air, expose his torso, and mutilate it with a lion's fang while using the Cruciatus Curse on him. The experience was traumatizing to the point where Marcus could not remember much of it until last school year, when the dementors forced him to remember every excruciating detail of that day.

"How do you even know about that?" growled Marcus through gritted teeth. Such knowledge of being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse wasn't shared, not even to his four closest friends.

"I made the arrest on the Dark Prince, Williams," Professor Moody growled back. "I thought you wouldn't remember. The Dark Prince's Cruciatus Curse is among the best, boy. You're lucky you survived."

Marcus wisely chose to keep quiet as Professor Moody looked to the rest of the class and said, "Right...anyone know any others?"

Marcus couldn't bare to raise his hands, partly out of sheer embarrassment, partly because he knew the fate of the final spider, and he couldn't bear to do it.

Hermione's hand must've been raised into the air, for Professor Moody looked at her and said, "Yes?"

 _"Avada Kedavra,"_ Hermione whispered.

Marcus instantly felt himself going into a cold sweat, hearing the words of that spell in person for the first time in nearly a decade.

"Ah," said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. _Avada Kedavra_...the Killing Curse."

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.

Moody raised his wand and Marcus suddenly gripped his desk, preparing for the worst.

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_ Moody roared.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air - instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Seeing the spider caused Marcus to get vivid flashbacks of seeing Orielle lying on her back, lifeless, staring at the open sky with dull eyes that would never flicker light again. Marcus could vaguely hear stifled cries from several of the students and Ron throwing himself backwards, almost toppling off his seat as the spider skidded toward him.

Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.

"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."

Marcus looked at Harry immediately as Moody stared Harry with both eyes. Marcus surmised that Harry survived the Killing Curse when he was much younger, but it must've had an effect on Harry, nonetheless, as Harry had a sort of glazed over stare, like he was deeply lost in thought.

Professor Moody then said, " _Avada Kedavra_ 's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it - you could all get out your wands now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it.

"Now, if there's no countercurse, why am I showing you? _Because you've got to know_. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again.

"Now...those three curses - _Avada Kedavra_ , Imperius, and Cruciatus - are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But, most of all, you need to practice _constant, never-ceasing vigilance_. Get out your quills...copy this down..."

They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang - but when Marcus tried to leave, Moody said, "Williams, stay behind for a minute. The rest of you are free to leave."

Once the class left, Professor Moody said, "Dumbledore told me you do training on your own time, Williams."

"This is true," said Marcus teresly.

"You're not like other students, Williams," said Moody, hobbling over to him. "You know what's out there. You know it and you prepare for it, for you know it's going to come back for you one day. That's why I think this'll suit you."

He then handed Marcus a book - a pitch black binded, bloodred-letter title called _The Complete Dark Arts Defense._

"This book is on the top three forbidden books list to have ever published," said Marcus, giving it an apprehensive look. "Why are you giving it to me?"

"Because you can handle it," said Professor Moody. "If you're going to be mad enough to fight The Dark Prince one day, you'll need to know all that he'll be capable of. Remember, Williams, to fight against them, you have to know how they think. Come on, Williams, let's go."

Marcus quickly stuffed the ominous looking book inside his bookbag as he started walking next to Professor Moody, the odd clunking reverberating through the hall. They didn't stop until they reached Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville, the latter of whom was still wearing a look of terror and fright on his face.

Professor Moody approached Neville and said, in a voice much lower and in a gentler growl than Marcus would've thought possibly from the man, "It's all right, sonny. Why don't you come up to my office? Come on...we can have a cup of tea..."

Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither move nor spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry.

"You all right, are you, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry in an almost defiant sort of tone.

Moody's blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed Harry. Then he said, "You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, _but you've got to know._ No point pretending...well...come on, Longbottom, I've got some books that might interest you."

Neville looked pleadingly at Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but they didn't say anything, so Neville had no choice but to allow himself to be steered away, one of Moody's gnarled hands on his shoulder.

"Hey, Marcus, what was -" Hermione begin to say.

"I don't want to talk about it," said Marcus with such finality in his voice that Hermione instantly dropped it.

"So, what was that about?" said Ron, who was watching Neville and Moody turn the corner.

"I don't know," said Hermione, looking pensive.

"Some lesson, though, eh?" said Ron to Marcus and Harry as they set off for the Great Hall. "Fred and George were right, weren't they? He really knows his stuff, Moody, doesn't he? When he did _Avada Kedavra_ , the way that spider just _died_ , just snuffed it right -"

But Ron suddenly fell silent at the look of Harry's face and the intense death stare he was getting from Marcus and didn't speak again until they reached the Great Hall, when he said he supposed they had better make a start on Professor Trelawney's predictions tonight, since they would take hours.

Hermione did not join in with the boys' conversation during dinner, but ate furiously fast, and then left for the library. Marcus, Harry, and Ron walked back to Gryffindor Tower, and Marcus, who wanted nothing more than to finish his homework so that he could go workout with Lorelei and Cedric, ended up back in the topic of the Unforgivable Curses.

"Wouldn't Moody and Dumbledore be in trouble with the Ministry if they knew we'd seen the curses?" Harry asked as they approached the Fat Lady.

"Yeah, probably," said Ron. "But Dumbledore's always done things his way, hasn't he, and Moody's been getting in trouble for years, I reckon. Attacks first and asks questions later - look at his dustbins. Balderdash."

The Fat Lady swung forward to reveal the entrance hole, and they climbed into the Gryffindor common room, which was crowded and noisy.

"Shall we get our Divination stuff, then?" said Harry.

"I s'pose," Ron groaned.

"Yeah, better late than never," Marcus groaned in agreement.

They went up to the dormitory to fetch their books and charts, to find Neville there alone, sitting on his bed, reading. He looked a good deal calmer than at the end of Moody's lesson, though still not entirely normal. His eyes were rather red.

"You all right there, Neville?" Marcus asked him.

"Oh yes," said Neville, "I'm fine, thanks. Just reading this book Professor Moody lent me..."

He held up the book: _Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean._

"Apparently, Professor Sprout told Professor Moody I'm really good at Herbology," Neville said. There was a faint note of pride in his voice that Marcus had rarely heard before. "He thought I'd like this."

Telling Neville what Professor Sprout had said, Marcus thought, had been a very smart way of cheering Neville up, for Neville very rarely heard that he was good at anything. It was the sort of thing Uncle Remus would have done.

Marcus, Harry, and Ron took their copies of _Unfogging the Future_ back down to the common room, found a table, and set to work on their predictions for the coming month. Sometime in the hour that they were working on their Divination homework, Marcus' senses were out of whack again, forcing him to use all his concentration and enhanced vision on his homework. Surprisingly, this worked to his advantage, as he was able to match a lot of his personal chart to the star chart to make his predictions.

He was nearly done when he heard Harry say, "I haven't got a clue what this lot's supposed to mean."

"You know," said Ron, whose hair was on end because of all the times he had run his fingers through it in frustration, "I think it's back to the old Divination standby."

"What - make it up?"

"Yeah," said Ron, sweeping the jumble of scrawled notes off the table, dipping his pen into some ink, and starting to write.

"Next Monday," he said as he scribbled, "I am likely to develop a cough, owing to the unlucky conjunction of Mars and Jupiter." He looked up at Harry. "You know her - just put in loads of misery, she'll lap it up."

"Right," said Harry, crumpling up his first attempt and lobbing it over the heads of a group of chattering first years into the fire. "Okay...on Monday, _I_ will be in danger of - er - burns."

"Yeah, you will be," said Ron darkly, "we're seeing the skrewts again on Monday. Okay, Tuesday, _I'll_...erm..."

"Lose a treasured possession," said Harry, flicking through _Unfogging the Future_ for ideas.

"Good one," said Ron, copying it down. "Because of...erm...Mercury. Why don't you get stabbed in the back by someone you thought was a friend?"

"Yeah...cool..." said Harry, scribbling it down, "because...Venus is in the twelfe house."

"And on Wednesday, I think I'll come off worse in a fight."

"Aaaah, I was going to have a fight. Okay, I'll lose a bet."

"Yeah, you'll be betting I'll win my fight..."

Marcus, who was watching this rather sad spectacle unfold, couldn't help but say with heavy satire, "And I bear witness to two men rising to Seer stardom with their groundbreaking predictions that'll change mankind."

Harry and Ron gave Marcus death stares worthy of Professor McGonagall, but proceeded to get back to their homework.

Harry and Ron continued to make up predictions (which grew steadily more tragic) for another hour, while the common room around them slowly emptied as people went up to bed. Crookshanks wandered over to them, leapt lightly into an empty chair, and stared inscrutably at Harry, like Hermione would've looked if she knew they were doing a poor job of doing their homework properly.

Getting rather bored of watching his two best friends' spectacle of foreboding predictions, Marcus looked around the room to find Fred and George sitting together against the opposite wall, heads together, quills out, poring over a single piece of parchment. It was quite bizarre to see Fred and George hidden away in a corner and working silently when they usually went out of their way to being the noisy center of attention. There was something secretive about the way they were working on the piece of parchment, reminding Marcus of how they had sat together writing something back at the Burrow. At first, Marcus thought that it had something to do with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but it certainly didn't have that kind of atmosphere. If it was, Lee Jordan would've been a part of whatever Fred and George were cooking up. Marcus wondered if what they were planning had anything to do with entering the Triwizard Tournament.

As Marcus watched, George shook his head at Fred, scratched out something with his quill, and said, in a very quiet voice that, even without Marcus' whacked sense of hearing not being present, carried across the almost deserted room. "No - that sounds like we're accusing him. Got to be careful..."

Then George saw Marcus looking over their way and Marcus decided to pretend to continue working on his Divinations homework, just to avoid any suspicions of eavesdropping. Shortly after that, the twins rolled up their parchment, said good night, and went off to bed.

Fred and George had been gone ten minutes or so when the portrait hole opened and Hermione climbed into the common room carrying a sheaf of parchment in one hand and a box whose contents rattled as she walked in the other. Crookshanks arched his back, purring.

"Hello," she said, "I've just finished!"

"So have I!" said Ron triumphantly, throwing down his quill.

Hermione sat down, laid the things she was carrying down in an emtpy armchair, and pulled Ron's predictions toward her.

"Not going to have a very good month, are you?" she said sardonically as Crookshanks curled up in her lap.

"Well, at least Ron's forewarned," said Marcus with great sarcasm.

"Ron, you seem to be drowning twice," said Hermione.

"Oh am I?" said Ron, peering down at his predictions. "I'd better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging hippogriff."

"Don't you think it's a bit obvious you've made these up?" said Hermione.

"It's blatantly obvious, Hermione," said Marcus, putting away his prediction chart quickly. "But, of course, it's easy to make things up when catered to the teacher's mindset."

"How dare you, both of you!" said Ron in mock outrage. "Harry and I've been working like house-elves here!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"It's just an expression," said Ron hastily.

Marcus saw Harry laying down his quill too, having just finished predicting his own death by decapitation.

"What's in the box?" Harry asked, pointing at it.

"Funny you should ask," said Hermione, with a nasty look at Ron. She took off the lid and showed them the contents.

Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, but all bearing the same letters: S.P.E.W.

"'Spew'?" said Harry, picking up a badge and looking at it. "What's this about?"

"Not _spew_ ," said Hermione impatiently. "It's S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Never heard of it," said Ron.

"Well, of course you haven't," said Hermione briskly, "I've only just started it."

"Yeah?" said Ron in mild surprise. "How many member have you got?"

"Well - if you three join - four," said Hermione.

"And what makes you think we'll want to walk around wearing badges that say 'spew'," said Marcus with a hint of impatience in his voice.

"S-P-E-W!" said Hermione hotly. "I was going to put _'Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status_ \- but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto."

She brandished the sheaf of parchment at them.

"I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."

"Hermione - open your ears," said Ron loudly. "They. Like. It. They _like_ being enslaved!"

"Our short-term aims," said Hermione, speaking even more loudly than Ron, and acting as though she hadn't heard a word, "are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aim include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrespresented."

"And how do we do all this?" Harry asked.

"We start by recruiting members," said Hermione happily. "I thought two Sickles to join - that buys a badge - and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. You're treasurer, Ron - I've got you a collecting tin upstairs - and Harry, you're secretary, so you might want to write down everything I'm saying now, as a record of our first meeting. Marcus, you're vice-president, so after this meeting, the two of us can sit down and discuss the organization's three-month projection goals."

Marcus, feelling both worn out of patience and eager to get himself out of the equation, said, "As flattered as I am, Hermione, I'm late for my evening training. Why don't we take a rain check on the matter, where we'll have more time."

He started to walk toward the portrait hole. He didn't take two steps when he heard a soft _tap, tap_ on the window. Marcus quickly turned around and saw, across the now empty common room and illuminated by light, a snowy owl perched on the windowsill.

"Hedwig!" Harry shouted, and he lauched himself out of his chair and across the room to pull open the window.

Hedwig flew inside, soared across the room, and landed on the table on top of Harry's predictions.

"About time!" said Harry, hurrying after her.

"She's got an answer!" said Ron excitedly, pointing at the grubby pieces of parchment tied to Hedwig's leg.

Marcus saw Harry hastily untying them and sat down to read the first one, whereupon Hedwig fluttered onto his knee, hooting softly.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

Harry then proceeded to read aloud:

 _Harry -_

 _I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore - they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is._

 _I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry_

 _-Sirius_

 _P.S. Please give Marcus the second bit of parchment, as it is highly important for him to read._

While Marcus made his way to the second bit of parchment, Harry looked up to him, Ron, and Hermione, the latter two of which were staring him back.

"He's flying north?" Hermione whispered. "He's coming _back_?"

"Dumbledore's reading what signs?" said Ron, looking perplexed. "Harry - what's up?"

For Marcus saw Harry hitting himself in the forehead with his fist, jolting Hedwig out of his lap.

"I shouldn't've told him!" Harry said furiously.

"What are you on about?" said Ron in surprise.

"It's made him think he's got to come back!" said Harry, now slamming his fist on the table so that Hedwig landed on the back on Ron's chair, hooting indignantly. "Coming back, because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me! And I haven't got anything for you," Harry snapped at Hedwig, who was clicking her beak expectantly, "you'll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food."

As Hedwig gave him an extremely offended look and took off the open window, cuffing Harry around the head with an outstrectched wing in the process, Marcus said to Harry, "Harry, did you honestly think Sirius would just shrug off your scar hurting, like it was no big deal?! He cares about you, about us!"

"And I care about him just as much," said Harry hotly. "That's why I don't want him to get caught."

"You really underestimate him if you think he's going to get caught, Harry," Marcus told him flatly.

"Marcus, what did Sirius write on that bit of parchment?" said Hermione.

Marcus looked to the bit of parchment and said, "Well, let's find out."

He held the parchment up to his eyes and started to read out loud:

 _Marcus,_

 _What were you thinking, taking on Death Eaters at the World Cup?! Surely, you knew better than to go charging against people who wouldn't hesitate to have you killed! You have to keep a more level head in the future or you won't be making it to seventeen!_

 _All right, enough about that. I've just found out that the Dark Prince has been spotted not only in America, but also in the U.K., as well. The Dark Prince is up to something, but I'm not sure what it is. Keep your eyes peeled for anything on the Dark Prince, because I'm sure that, whatever he is planning, it doesn't spell out anything good._

 _As you may already know, I'm flying north immediately. I expect you to fill me in on everything once I've arrived. I'll be hearing from you real soon, count on it._

 _-Sirius_

Marcus rolled up the bit of parchment, said, "Well, it's quite clear I have to train now. Harry, Ron, Hermione, have a good night and I'll see you in the morning."

He looked to the stairs going to the dormitory to find Twink flying to him, no doubt waking up from his nap.

"Hello, Twink," said Marcus with a smile on his face. "Did you enjoy your nap?"

When Twink nodded, Marcus asked, "Why don't we go and have some fun, huh? I'm sure Lorelei will be more than happy to have you around."

Twink proceeded to fly a few times around his head in joy.

Once he landed on his left shoulder, he said, "All right, let's get going then."

Marcus then took off for the Room of Requirement, with Twink on his left shoulder and a look of steely determination on his face.

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: Path of Trails! Please feel free to leave a review on this chapter, as that always helps me refine my skills as a writer. Also, if you want to ask me any questions, don't hesitate to leave a PM and, I promise, I will answer them to the best of my ability. Otherwise, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	15. (15) The Grand Welcome

**Welcome, one and all, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Thank you all for taking the time to read my stories. It makes me happier than you could ever know. Also...**

 **Disclaimer: I have no ownership of HP, save for OC's.**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter 15: The Grand Welcome

 **Enjoy!**

By the time Marcus returned to the dormitory the next morning from his workout with Lorelei, showered up, and was ready for the day, he found Harry just about leaving the common room.

"Hey, Marcus," said Harry.

"Harry," said Marcus, a little surprised at his friends' early rise. "What's getting you up at this hour?"

"I was about to make my way to the Owlery," said Harry. "Do you want to come with me?"

"Sure," he said, grabbing a written piece of parchment. "I have to send a letter myself, so it works out."

As they got walking out of the portrait hole, Marcus said, "Trying to stop Sirius from entering the country?"

"How did you -?!"

"I would do the exact same thing, if I was in your shoes," said Marcus. "In fact, I'm going to send a letter to Sirius, as well."

"Are you going to try and stop Sirius, too?" asked Harry.

"Nope," said Marcus. "He wouldn't listen to me in that regard, just as he won't listen to you. Once his mind's made up, he's not going to deter from anything."

No words were uttered from that point until they arrived at the Owlery, which was situated at the top of West Tower.

The Owlery was a circular stone room, rather cold and drafty, because none of the windows had glass in them. The floor was entirely covered in straw, owl droppings, and the regurgitated skeletons of mice and voles. Hundreds upon hundreds of owls of every breed imaginable were nestled here on perches that rose right up to the top of the tower, nearly all of them asleep, though here and there a round amber eye glared at them. Marcus spotted Archie nestled between Hedwig and another owl and the two boys hurried on over to their respective owls, sliding a little on the dropping-strewn floor.

While Marcus was able to get Archie up quick and out of the Owlery for the delivery, Harry had to take longer to wake up Hedwig and, when she finally did, she kept showing Harry her tail. No doubt she was still furious about Harry's lack of gratitude from the previous night. In the end, it was Harry suggesting she might be too tired, and that perhaps he would ask Ron to borrow Pigwidgeon, that made her stick out her leg and allow him to tie the letter to it.

"Just find him, all right?" Harry said, stroking her back as he carried her on his arm to one of the holes in the wall. "Before the dementors do."

She nipped his finger, perhaps rather harder than she would ordinarily have done, but hooted softly in a reassuring sort of way all the same. Then she spread her wings and took off into the sunrise. The two boys watched her fly out of sight.

"Well, Harry, let's get to breakfast," said Marcus, "They should have a decent spread this morning."

* * *

"That was a _lie_ , Harry," said Hermione sharply over breakfast, when Harry told her and Ron what he had done. "You _didn't_ imagine your scar hurting and you know it."

"So what?" said Harry. "He's not going back to Azkaban because of me."

"Drop it," said Ron sharply to Hermione as she opened her mouth to argue some more, and for once, Hermione heeded him, and fell silent.

Marcus had to bring forth more focus than he ever thought possible over the next couple of weeks. Sure, the thought of Sirius getting caught came up a few times, but he didn't pay much mind to it, as he was confident his godfather could avoid just about anybody. What he did have to pay mind to was not only his school lessons, but his training with Lorelei and Cedric.

Cedric Diggory was beginning to really show just how much he knew during their consolidated training sessions, as he was able to help Marcus and Lorelei make quick work of learning new spells as well as innovative ways of using spells they already knew, something that even Marcus hadn't thought of. The only difficulties Marcus and Lorelei were having were learning their affinities and the Duplication Spell.

Marcus was the only one that was able to make any progress with the Duplication Spell, and that wasn't even saying much. True, Marcus was able to form a duplicate body, but the duplicate body wasn't even able to move, much less do anything on command or even think for itself; in other words, it was useless.

It didn't even help that his school lessons were starting to get more difficult and demanding than ever before, in particular Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts.

To their surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.

"But - but you said it's illegal, Professor," said Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "You said - to use it against another human was -"

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way - when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."

He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Marcus, Harry, and Ron all grinned at one another. They knew Hermione would rather eat bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson.

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Marcus watched as, one by one, his classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the Great Britain national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them only recovered when Moody had removed it.

"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."

Marcus watched Harry moving forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, _"Imperio!"_

Marcus then saw the look on Harry's face take on a blank expression, like someone had put him on reset and was merely waiting to refill the blanks. He was like this for a few seconds before he suddenly bent his knees, looking to jump onto the nearby desk.

Then he saw it.

He saw the look in Harry's eyes, the look of battle. The battle within himself. His eyes constantly shifted between his normal eyes and the look of his eyes being glazed over.

Quite suddenly, he both jump and tried to prevent himself from jumping, the results of which caused him to smash headlong into the desk, knocking it over and landing by his kneecaps.

"Now, _that's_ more like it!" growled Moody's voice. "Look at that, you lot...Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! Very good, Potter! Now, only one remains."

Professor Moody looked at Marcus and said, "Williams, your turn."

Marcus just sighed. Unfortunately for him, his senses decided to get all out of whack again before the start of the class, leaving the entire lesson so far battling against his mind turning into mush from all the seemingly point-blank conversations that his classmates were having.

Nevertheless, Marcus stood exactly where Harry was standing just a minute ago. He noticed the class looking at him eagerly, almost as if they were expecting to see a good show.

Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Marcus, and said, _"Imperio!"_

Marcus then experienced a rather strange phenomenon.

Part of him experienced a most wonderful feeling, like all of his worries and cares were just floating away.

The other part of him felt immediately violated, leaving him with a furious, mad desire to punch the clueless idiot into the ground.

And then he heard the voice of Mad-Eye Moody, echoing within a distant chamber of his mind: _Take off your shirt...take off your shirt..._

A wave of fear and anger washed over Marcus, furiously fighting back against the command of Mad-Eye's voice.

 _Take off your shirt..._

 _"No, I won't do it,"_ thought Marcus, even though his hands were creeping closer to the bottom of his shirt. _"I won't do it!"_

 _Take off your shirt!_

 _"NO! I DON'T WANT EVERYONE TO SEE!"_

 _Take off your shirt! NOW!_

Suddenly, it happened.

His eyes flared up in intense pain, his hands (which were extremely close to the bottom of his shirt) balled into fists, and a loud, deep, and booming voice yelled out, _"NEVER!"_

His left fist slammed into the floor, giving it a surprisingly considerable shake, and he looked at Mad-Eye Moody with such anger and rage that it was a surprise that he didn't attack him then and there.

Suddenly, as quick as it happened, it stopped. Marcus' eyes returned to normal, the curse was lifted off him, and Marcus Williams found himself looking around, as if he was confused.

"Now _that's_ the way to do it, Williams!" growled Moody. "You're a chip off the old block, no denying it there!" He then looked around the class and said, "Williams here was able to fight the curse almost entirely off from the beginning and found the necessary willpower at the end to beat it! Twenty-five points for Gryffindor for suceeding in beating the Imperius Curse, Williams!"

* * *

"The way he talks," Harry muttered as he hobbled out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class an hour later (Moody had insisted on putting Harry through his paces four times in a row, until Harry could throw off the curse entirely like Marcus did), "you'd think we were all going to be attacked any second."

"Yeah, I know," said Ron, who was skipping on every alternate step. He had much more difficulty with the curse than Marcus or Harry did, though Moody assured him the effects would wear off by lunchtime. "Talk about paranoid..." Ron glanced nervously over his shoulder to check that Moody was definitely out of earshot and went on. "No wonder they were glad to get shot of him at the Ministry. Did you hear him telling Seamus what he did to that witch who shouted 'Boo' behind him on April Fools' Day? And when are we supposed to read up on resisting the Imperius Curse with everything else we've got to do?"

"Yeah, I hear you there, Ron," said Marcus, stroking his chin. "I've got my work cut out for me with Moody's assignemt, seeing as I never got my chance in class today."

Harry and Ron looked at him with great confusion and Ron said, "Are you mad? You were the most successful one in class today!"

"I don't think so," said Marcus. "One second, I feel the Imperius Curse cast upon me and, the next second, Moody's praising me for throwing it off for some stupid reason. I don't have any memory inbetween, so Moody must be going even crazier than we thought."

"You really don't remember you throwing it off?" asked Harry, who sounded quite worried.

"Like I said, Harry, not a clue," said Marcus, who was definitely not lying.

"Mate, I think you should get checked out by Madam Pomfrey," said Ron, looking quite worried.

"It's not that bad, I assure you," said Marcus, though this apparent lack of memory left him quite alarmed.

He was forced to put it to the side, however, when he noticed, along with the rest of the fourth years, that there was a definite increase in the amount of work they were required to do this term. Professor McGonagall explained why, when the class gave a particularly loud groan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she had assigned.

"You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education!" she told him, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer -"

"We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!" said Dean Thomas indignantly.

"Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger and Mister Williams remains the only people in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that _your_ pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!"

While Hermione had turned pink from this praise and was fighting the urge not to look too pleased with herself, Marcus merely hid his face with his hands in sheer irritation. He was getting rather sick and tired of all the uneeded attention to himself.

Marcus watched with sheer exasperation when Professor Trelawney told Harry and Ron that they had received top marks for their homework in their next Divination class, leaving Harry and Ron wearing looks of deep amusement. She read out large portions of their predictions, commending them for their unflinching acceptance of the horrors in store for them - but it was Marcus' turn to feel deeply amused when Harry and Ron were asked to do the same thing for the month after next; Marcus was quite sure that his two close friends were running fresh clean out of ideas.

Meanwhile Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Professor Snape was forcing them to research antidotes. This one they all took seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms.

Even Hagrid was adding to their workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of their "project", suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior.

"I will not," said Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks."

Hagrid's smile faded off his face.

"Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book...I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy."

The Gryffindors roared with laughter. Malfoy flushed with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody's punishment was still sufficently painful to stop him from retorting. Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to the castle at the end of the lesson in high spirits; seeing Hagrid put down Malfoy was particularly satisfying, especially considering Malfoy had done his very best to get Hagrid sacked the previous year.

When they arrived in the entrance hall, they found themselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Ron, the tallest of the four, stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud to the other two:

 **TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT**

 **THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY -**

"Brilliant!" said Harry. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have to poison us all!"

 **STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.**

"Only a week away!" said Ernie Macmillian of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him..."

"Cedric?" said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.

"Diggory," said Harry. "He must be entering the tournament."

"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" said Ron as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.

"He's not an idiot!" said Marcus rather hotly. "He's actually quite a genius! I've seen his capabilities first hand and, should he get chosen as the Hogwarts Champion, I'm quite confident that we'll win the whole thing!"

"I doubt that!" said Ron in a disgusted tone.

"You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," said Hermione. "Besides being a really good student, he's also a prefect!"

She spoke as if this settled the matter entirely.

"You only like him because he's _handsome_ ," said Ron scathingly.

"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly.

Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like _"Lockhart!"_

That evening in the Room of Requirement, Marcus asked Cedric, "So, Cedric, did you see the sign in the Great Hall?"

Cedric, who was in the middle of doing push-ups, said, "I didn't, but a fellow Hufflepuff encouraged me to put my name in for consideration as a Hogwarts Champion."

"Cedric, I really think you should enter," said Marcus.

Lorelei, who just got finished with her sit-ups, looked at Cedric and said, "Oh, Cedric, I think you'd do the school proud if you entered in and get selected. After all, you've taught me and Marcus so many things already!"

Cedric got a sheepish look on his face and said, "Well, I mean, the thought crossed my mind, but I hadn't really considered it."

"I mean, come on," said Marcus. "Who else would make a great Triwizard Champion if not you?"

At this, both Cedric and Lorelei looked at him as if to answer his own question.

"Surely, the two of you are not implying that _I_ would," said Marcus.

"Marcus, if it wasn't for the age restriction, I'm confident that _you_ would get selected," said Cedric.

"Now, really, Cedric," said Marcus, getting rather defiant. "How would _I_ make a good Triwizard Champion when I simply haven't learned enough yet?"

"Well, let's count the ways, shall we?" said Lorelei, who looked just as serious as Cedric was. "Your first year, you got past a Cerberian Hound and a series of traps meant to stymie adults."

"I hardly did any of that by myself," said Marcus flatly.

"Your second year, you took on a Basilisk in the bowels of Hogwarts and saved the school from a tyrannical-ridden book, acheiving your Animagus form in the process," stated Lorelei.

"Harry was with me, he contributed just as much as I did," Marcus said in the same flat tone.

"And, just last year, you helped me achieve my Animagus form, successfully learned to cast a corporeal Patronus Charm and prevented an innocent man's unlawful sentence to a fate worse than death!" Lorelei exclaimed.

"Once again, I had help with that, I didn't do anything you've listed off alone!" said Marcus, now getting quite irritated. "If selected for the Triwizard Tournament, I wouldn't have any support during the tasks themselves!"

"Well, in regards to your 'lack of knowledge', Marcus," stated Cedric, "You're already working with magic the likes of which sixth year students struggle to cast. And everyone knows you're the most physically fit person in Hogwarts."

"I'm this way because I will eventually be fighting The Dark Prince in a duel that will result in his death, mine, or both!" said Marcus, who was on the verge of yelling. "I don't have time to get caught up in some stupid, death-ridden tournament for the equally stupid reason of eternal glory and money!"

"The Triwizard Tournament would be a great evaluation of seeing how much progressed you've made overall, Marcus," said Cedric. "I don't think it would be a waste of time for you at all."

He then looked at Lorelei, who was looking at him with suspicion.

"What's wrong, Lorelei?" Marcus asked.

"There's something you're not telling anyone," said Lorelei. "Something about this tournament has you scared."

"Yeah, definitely not," said Marcus, even though he felt otherwise.

"You saw something about this tournament, haven't you?" asked Lorelei, getting closer to Marcus. "Sometime last year in Divination class, you must've saw something about the Triwizard Tournament that left you terrified! The Marcus I know would've been ever so eager to take on the Triwizard Tournament!"

"I'm just trying to focus on preparing myself for the eventual confrontation of The Dark Prince," said Marcus, trying to keep an even tone. "Besides, I've been trying to take on a more rational view of the things happening around me."

"Marcus," said Lorelei, taking Marcus' hands into hers, "Please, tell me. Confide in me, tell me what's going on that has you so scared. You don't have to hide it from me."

He looked at her face, her sparkling emerald eyes full of pleading and worry, and before he knew it, he felt his face getting hot, he felt a little bit flustered. Her hands felt so nice grabbing his.

"I don't know for sure why, Lorelei," said Marcus. "As soon as I know for sure, you'll be the first to know."

Lorelei gave a smile to him and let go of his hands.

Marcus looked to Cedric, who was watching in silence, and said, "Cedric, for my sake, put your name in the tournament. As selfish as this is going to sound, it will give me a more peace of mind if you did."

"If you insist, Marcus, then I believe I will," said Cedric. "Who knows? Could be fun."

* * *

The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where Marcus went: The Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beaxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.

Marcus also noticed that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.

Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too.

"Longbottom, kindly do _not_ reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.

When they went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House; red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down beside Fred and George at the Gryffindor table. Once again, and most unusually, they were sitting apart from everyone else and conversing in low voices. Ron led the way over to them.

"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying gloomily to Fred. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

"Who's avoiding you?" said Ron, sitting down next to them.

"Wish you would," said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.

"What's a bummer?" Ron asked George.

"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," said George.

"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry asked. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"

"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling," said George bitterly. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."

"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" said Ron thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Marcus, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before..."

"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."

"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.

Marcus was about to answer that question when Hermione beat him to the punch.

"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," she said, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Triwizard Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."

She noticed them all looking at her and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else beside Marcus had read all the books she had, "It's all in _Hogwarts, A History_. Though, of course, that book's not _entirely_ reliable. _A_ Revised _History of Hogwarts_ would be a more accurate title. Or _A Highly Biased and_ Selective _History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School."_

"What are you on about?" said Ron, though Marcus definitely knew the incoming answer to the question.

 _"House-elves!"_ said Hermione, her eyes flashing. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does _Hogwarts, A History_ mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"

Marcus rolled his eyes and forced his every attention to his scrambled eggs. Marcus', Harry's, and Ron's lack of enthusiasm had done nothing whatsoever to curb Hermione's determination to pursue justice for house-elves. While Harry and Ron had given in and paid Hermione the two Sickles necessary for the badges, Marcus was always two steps ahead of Hermione, having successfully dodged every attempt to make him buy a badge, largely because he had a house-elf of his own, Blinky, and it would've seemed awfully hypocrtical for him to be "advocating" house-elf rights when he owned one himself. Also, Marcus was right in believing that buying the badges would be a waste of time, as it made Hermione even more vociferous than before. She had been badgering Harry and Ron since the induction of the organization, first to wear the badges, then to persuade others to do the same, and she had also taken to rattling around the Gryffindor common room every evening, cornering people and shaking the collecting tin under their noses.

"You do realize that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magical creatures who are unpaid and enslaved?" she kept saying fiercely.

Some people, like Neville, had paid up just to stop Hermione from glowering at them. A few seemed mildly interested in what she had to say, but were reluctant to take a more active role in campaigning. Many regarded the whole thing as a joke.

As Marcus was finishing up his breakfast, looking at the autumn sunlight bathing the ceiling, he saw Fred becoming extremely interested in his bacon (both twins had refused to buy a S.P.E.W. badge), and George leaned in toward Hermione, saying, "Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"

"No, of course not," said Hermione curtly, "I hardly think students are supposed to -"

"Well, we have," said George, indicating Fred, "loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them, and they're _happy_. They think they've got the best job in the world -"

"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned out by the sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls. Marcus looked up at once, and saw Archie as well as Hedwig soaring toward them. Hermione stopped talking abruptly; she and Ron watched as the two owls flew to their respective owners, holding out their legs rather wearily.

Marcus pulled his letter off Archie and had him eat what remained of his breakfast. Then, checking that Fred and George were safely immersed in further discussions about the Triwizard Tournament, Marcus listened to Harry reading Sirius's letter in a whisper along with Ron and Hermione.

 _Nice try, Harry._

 _I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you and Marcus to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar._

 _-Sirius_

"Why d'you have to keep changing owls?" Ron asked in a low voice.

"Hedwig'll attract too much attention," said Hermione at once. "She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he's hiding...I mean, they're not native birds, are they?"

"Marcus, what about your letter?" Ron asked him.

"It's not from Sirius," Marcus lied as he pocketed the letter.

"Thanks, Hedwig," Harry said, stroking her. Hedwig hooted sleepily, dipped her beak briefly into Harry's goblet of orange juice, then took off again, clearly desperate for a good long sleep in the Owlery.

There was a rather pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, but that was only because it was a half-hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Marcus had to hurry up behind Harry, Ron, and Hermione getting up to Gryffindor Tower, depositing their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.

The Head of Houses were ordering the students into lines.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

Marcus made the attempt to put his hood over his head. However, he didn't get to raise it halfway over his head when he heard Professor McGonagall snap at him, "Williams, don't even think about putting that hood over your head!"

Marcus scowled as he lowered the hood onto his neck. He was hoping he wasn't going to stick out, but it looked like he wasn't to get what he wanted.

"Follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. "First years in front...no pushing..."

THey filed down the stpes and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Marcus, standing between Ron and Dean Thomas in the fourth row from the front, saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering with anticipation among the other first years.

"Nearly six," said Ron, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gate. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"

"I doubt it," said Hermione.

"How then? Broomsticks?" Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky.

"I don't think so...not from that far away..."

"A Portkey?" Ron suggested. "Or they could Apparate - maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"

"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?" said Hermione impatiently.

"Regardless, their entrance is going to be big and flashy," stated Marcus.

"How d'you reckon?" asked Ron.

"It's something your dad said back at the World Cup," stated Marcus. "'When wizards get together, we can't help but show off'."

Marcus then decided to enhance his vision as it was starting to get dark. He wasn't able to pick up anything that indicated the arrival of either European school.

After a while, he heard Dumbledore call out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers -

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beaxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

 _"There!"_ yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.

Marcus looked to where the sixth year was pointing and narrowed his field of vision, causing it to zoom in on the incoming object.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid...it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked to Marcus and Ron asked, "What is it actually?"

"A flying carriage," said Marcus as it was about to clear over the forest. "Drawn by a dozen humongous, flying palomino horses."

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled even lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed - then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

Marcus was able to catch the emblem of the Beauxbatons Academy School (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before the doors to the carriage opened.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then Marcus saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage - a shoe the size of a child's sled - followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

Marcus, up to this point, had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in his life, and that was Hagrid; he doubted whether there was even an inch difference in their heights. Yet somehow - maybe simply because he was used to Hagrid - this woman (now at the foot of the steps, and looking around at the waiting, wide-eyed crowd) seemed even more unnaturally large. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.

"My pupils,"" said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Marcus, whose attention had been focused completely upon Madame Maxime, now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, considering that their uniform was made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. From what Marcus could tell (or as much as he could with the students standing in Madame Maxime's shadow), they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses -"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."

"Skrewts," Ron muttered to Marcus and Harry, grinning.

"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong..."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.

"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Seamus Finnigan said, leaning around Lavender and Parvati to address Harry and Ron.

"Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them," said Harry. "That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?"

"Maybe they've escaped," said Ron hopefully.

"Oh don't say that," said Hermione with a shudder. "Imagine that lot loose on the grounds..."

"Yeah, I don't really feel like thinking about that," said Marcus who shuddered at the thought.

They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then -

"Can you hear something?" said Ron suddenly.

Marcus listened; upon hearing a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed...

Marcus, who returned his vision to normal upon her exit from the carriage, enhanced it once again and looked to the lake, where he saw vastly different auras around a nautical structure coming up to the surface.

"Everyone, look to the lake!" yelled Marcus, pointing at it.

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water - except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Marcus could see the rising of the ship taking place deep in the center of the lake, causing great bubbles to form on the surface. Waves were now washing over the muddy banks - and then, out in the middle of the lake, a whirpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor...

Marcus began to see the long, black pole of the mast rising slowly out of the heart of the whirpool, the rigging beginning to rise...

"It's a mast!" Harry said to Marcus, Ron, and Hermione.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Marcus noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle... but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, Marcus saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbeldore replied.

Karkaroff had a fruity, unnecessaryily flattering voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Marcus noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good...Viktor, come along into the warmth...you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor had a slight head cold..."

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Marcus' eyes grew wide as he glimpsed a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows.

"Marcus, Harry - _it's Krum_!"

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review on this story, as this'll help me refine my skills as a writer! Also, if you have any questions for me, please feel free to ask them and, I promise, I will answer them to the best of my abilities! Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next exciting chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	16. (16) The Ominous Goblet

**Welcome, one and all, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! There's something I have to preface here and now, just so that no one is confused. From here on out, different languages will be used. To annotate this, I will be bolding the words in the sentences that use a language other than English. That's all I wanted to point out for the time being. Also...**

 **Disclaimer: Save for the OC's, I have no ownership of HP**

Chapter 16: The Ominous Goblet

"I don't believe it!" Ron said in a stunned voice, as the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. "Krum, guys! _Viktor Krum!_ "

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," said Hermione.

 _"Only a Quidditch player?"_ Ron said, looking at her as though he couldn't believe his ears. "Hermione - he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"

As they recrossed the entrance hall with the rest of the Hogwarts students heading for the Great Hall, Marcus saw Lee Jordan jumping up and down on the soles of his feet to get a better look at the back of Krum's head. Several sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets as they walked -

"Oh, I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me -"

"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

 _"Really,"_ Hermione said loftily as they passed the girls, now squabbling over the lipstick.

" _I'm_ getting his autograph if I can," said Ron. "You haven't got a quill, have you, Marcus, Harry?"

"Nope, they're upstairs in my bag," said Harry.

"Same here," Marcus said.

They walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down. While Marcus sat down next to Lorelei, Ron took care to sit on the side facing the doorway, because Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were still gathered around it, apparently unsure about where they should sit. The students from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.

"It's not _that_ cold," said Hermione defensively. "Why didn't they bring cloaks?"

"Over here! Come and sit over here!" Ron hissed. "Over here! Hermione, budge up, make a space -"

"What?"

"Too late," said Ron bitterly.

Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table. Marcus could see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle looking very smug about this. As he watched, Malfoy bent forward to speak to Krum.

"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," said Ron scathingly. "I bet Krum can see right through him, though...bet he gets people fawning over him all the time...Where d'you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Marcus, Harry...I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed."

Marcus was only half paying attention to Ron as he was talking. He was still looking at Viktor Krum, who was surveying the Great Hall until he glanced over the area where Marcus was sitting. He looked a little past him, then caught himself and looked straight at him. Marcus was then surprised to see Krum narrowing his eyes at him, the same kind of look Professor McGonagall would give if a student had failed to hand in an assignment and gave a horrible excuse.

"Is it just me, or is Viktor Krum _actually_ giving you a death stare?" Lorelei asked, sounding perplexed.

"No, it's not just you," said Marcus, who sounded just as perplexed as Lorelei was.

Marcus turned his attention back to his group of friends just as Harry said, "They look a lot happier than the Beauxbatons lot."

The Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy furs and looking up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest; a couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed.

Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occassion. Marcus was a little confused to see that he added four chairs, two on either side of Dumbledore's.

"But there's only two extra people," Harry said. "Why's Filch putting out four chairs, who else is coming?"

"Eh?" said Ron vaguely. He was still staring avidly at Krum.

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the students laughed, but Marcus understood it as a sign of respect for the Headmistress. It was also clear that they were quite disciplined, as they remained unfazed by the laughter of the students and didn't sit down until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

"No one's making you stay!" Hermione whispered, bristling at her.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down, and Marcus saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation.

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Marcus had seen, including several that were foreign.

"What's _that_?" said Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

"Bouillabaisse," said Hermione.

"Bless you," said Ron.

"It's _French_ ," said Hermione, "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

"I'll take your word for it," said Ron, helping himself to black pudding.

The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep bloodred.

Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione with a very heavily bandaged hand.

"Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?" Harry called.

"Thrivin'," Hagrid called back happily.

"Yeah, I'll just bet they are," said Ron quietly. "Looks like they've finally found a food they like, doesn't it? Hagrid's fingers."

At that moment, a somehow familiar voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

Marcus looked to see that it was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth. Marcus was very much caught off guard, not by her beauty, but how shockingly familiar she looked to him.

Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his mouth to reply,but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise.

Eager to avoid any embarrassment, Marcus quickly gave the bouillabaisse to the Beauxbatons girl and said, "Here you go."

The Beauxbatons girl looked at Marcus and asked, "You 'ave finished wiz it?"

"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."

Seemingly satisfied with the rather drifty response, she turned to walk away with the bouillabaisse. However, she didn't take two steps away when she paused. Suddenly, she looked back at Marcus with a puzzled look on her face. She gave the bouillabaisse to Ron, went to stand in front of Marcus, and proceeded to kneel down so that her face was level with Marcus. Now that Marcus took another glance at her eyes, he thought for sure she looked very familiar...

Then, the Beauxbatons girl said, "Is it truly you, Mar-kees?"

The way this girl said his name suddenly triggered a flashback...

* * *

 _He didn't want to leave Paris, France. He was simply having too much fun with the pretty girl and didn't want to return._

 _However, his parents said that they weren't to stay, so he couldn't go against their wishes._

 _The young girl then cried out, "Remember our promise, Mar-kees! You will remember it, won't you?"_

 _"Of course I will!" said Marcus. "We'll be together and even closer the next time we meet! You can count on that, Ms. Delacour!"_

* * *

The name rung within his mind and, suddenly, all of his dreams regarding Paris finally connected and he was able to remember who the girl was. Her name was -

"Ms. Delacour?" said Marcus in a tone of disbelief.

The Beauxbatons girl gave a suppressed shrill of delight, hugged him out of nowhere, and said, "Oh, Mar-kees, _'cest manifique!_ I cannot belieze we truly meet again! I almost did not recognize zou with your snow white 'air, but there cannot be any doubt when I look into those eyes of joy! Zhere is so much to catch up on, Mar-kees, that I don't even know where to begin! Tomorrow, we should catch up, _oui_?"

" _Oui, Madamoiselle_ Delacour," said Marcus, who was so baffled by the events of their sudden reunion that he couldn't do anything but give her a quick hug back.

She then grabbed the bouillabaisse back from Ron, whose jaw was dropped, turned back to Marcus with a pearly white smile and said, "I shall send someone for you when I am available, Mar-kees! See you tomorrow!"

She then blew him a kiss, which made Marcus blush heavily.

As soon as she was beyond hearing distance, Ron rounded on Marcus and said, "What the bloody hell, Marcus?! You didn't tell us you knew someone like her! I mean, look at her!" Ron then turned to the rest of the group and said, "She's a _veela_!"

"Of course she isn't!" said Hermione tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!"

"I think you'll find that what you've said isn't entirely accurate," said Lorelei, who pointed to the effect happening in that moment. As Ms. Delacour was walking back to the Ravenclaw table, many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron.

"However," Lorelei continued, looking at Marcus, "I'm very curious as to how you know someone like her, Marcus. Would you mind telling us?"

Marcus looked between his friends to see their reactions. Harry's was largely of confusion, which was to be expected as his knowledge of the Wizarding World was still insufficient. Ron's was a mixture of disbelief and rather terrifying eagerness. Hermione's was of confusion, but also of inquireness, which was a little unsettling. However, Lorelei's startled him the most. Instead of the usual cheeriness and joy she conveyed, she was sporting a look of perception and rather terror-like, like seeing Ms. Delacour forced her to put her up on her utmost guard.

Marcus suddenly felt the death stares of all the nearby Hogwarts boys, as if it was blasphemous for him to be so familiar with a girl like her.

Getting rather irritated, Marcus focused on his dish and said, "Lorelei, I'll tell you later tonight."

"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" said Ron, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"

"They make them okay at Hogwarts," said Harry.

"When the two of you have put your eyes back in," said Hermione briskly, "you'll be able to see who's just arrived."

She was pointing up at the staff table. Marcus, intent on keeping his focus on his dish, looked to see that the two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy's boss, was next to Madame Maxime.

"What are _they_ doing here?" said Harry in surprise.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" said Hermione. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."

When the second course arrived they noticed a number of unfamiliar desserts too. Ron examined an odd sort of pale blancmange closely, then moved it carefully a few inches to his right, so that it would be clearly visible from the Ravenclaw table. However, from what Marcus could tell, Ms. Delacour was so much involved in conversing with her fellow Beauxbatons classmates, giggling and giving occassional glances over to him, that it looked like she wouldn't be coming over to the Gryffindor table again.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Marcus could the excitement swirling in the air, such was the tension to see what was coming next. Several seats down from them, Fred and George were leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket -"

"The what?" Harry muttered.

Both Ron and Marcus shrugged.

" - just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" - there was a smattering of polite applause - "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likeable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. Remembering him in his neat suit at the Quidditch World Cup, Marcus thought that he looked rather out of place wearing wizard's robes. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked quite ancient and, to Marcus, foreboding. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students; Dennis Creevey actually stood on his chair to see it properly but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.

"At this time, I'd like to introduce an additional, yet integral, person that will contribute to the success of this year's Triwizard Tournament, and will now explain the proceedings of the Triwizard Tournament," said Dumbledore. "Ladies and gentleman, Head of the Auror Department of the Ministry of Magic, Mr. Michael Williams."

When Marcus saw his father coming through the door behind the staff table and making his way to the casket, roars of applause blasted throughout the Great Hall, not only from the Hogwarts students, but from the Beauxbaton and Durmstrang students as well. Marcus never realized just how popular his dad was until that moment.

"Thank you, everyone," said Michael, who looked upon the crowd with a meager smile, which Marcus could tell was forced. "My task in this tournament is simple: I will be overseeing the safety of the champions in regards to the specific tasks, the instructions in which have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," he stated as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the year, and they will test the champions in many different ways...their magical prowress - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

"As you all may already know, three champions compete in the tournament," Michael went on calmly, "one representative each from the participating schools. They will be scored on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Michael then took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Michael reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

As Marcus' father closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall, Marcus enhanced his vision and immediately blanched.

The Goblet of Fire appeared to be covered almost entirely in a pitch-black aura, which extended to the blue-white flames, which Marcus confirmed all along that his best course of action from that point until the champions were selected was to steer clear of the goblet as much as possible. His experiences with anything covered in a pitch-black aura were more than convincing enough to heed what he was able to see.

"Anyone that wishes to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," explained Michael. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To make sure that no underage student foolishly puts their names up for contention," said Michael, gesturing to Dumbledore, "Professor Dumbledore will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to make what I'm about to tell you absolutely clear, so please pay close attention," said Michael with the utmost serious look on his face, which set Marcus on edge. "Your desire to enter the Triwizard Tournament should not and must not be one of a light-hearted nature. You must be prepared to devote yourself entirely to the hardships of representing your own school as champion, because should your name come forth from the Goblet of Fire, you will be obliged to see through to the end. Placing your name within it and the subsequent choosing will create a binding, magical contract, the likes of which cannot be broken. There is no backing out upon being chosen as your school champion, there will be _no_ do-overs. If you do want to submit your names, please reflect upon my words and be sure that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. With this, I take my leave. Good luck to you all, aspiring champions!"

As Marcus' father went towards the same door he entered, the student body roared in applause once again. Marcus had no doubt why his father was as successful as he was, especially after hearing a speech like that.

"Thank you, Mr. Williams," Dumbledore said just as Michael was crossing the threshold of the door. "Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

"An Age Line!" Fred Weasley said, his eyes glinting, as they all made their way across the Hall to the doors into the entrance hall. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing - it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," said Hermione, "we just haven't learned enough..."

"Speak for yourself," said George shortly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Harry, Marcus?"

"Absolutely not," said Marcus with such finality that Marcus was sure the subject of him being Hogwarts champion would be dropped.

However, Fred then said, "Oh, come on, don't be like that, old geezer! There are a lot of people here in Hogwarts that would love for you to be the Hogwarts champion."

His eyes narrowed dangerously at Fred and said in a deadly tone, "Oh really?"

"Sure," Fred said, not picking up Marcus' dangerous attitude. "I mean, everyone knows you constantly train and, with the things you've done over the few years being here, most people think you would be a shoo-in. I've even heard of a few seventh years that may actually put your name in for contention."

Marcus, upon hearing this, summoned his wand, gripped it, pointed it at Fred's throat so that the tip was mere inches away and he said in the deadliest voice possible, "I do not want my name to be put in that goblet. I will not go near it and, if anyone should try to do it for me, I will find them and I will personally _end them_."

Fred immediately put his hand up in surrender and said in a rather squeaky voice, "Understood, old geezer."

As Marcus let go of his wand, which shot back up his left sleeve, Lorelei gave a gasp and said, "Marcus, how did you know about the Goblet of Fire?!"

"What?" asked Marcus, startled by the sudden question.

"Shortly after the Start-Of-Term feast, you said that you wouldn't put your name in the goblet!" said Lorelei. "How did you know that the selector was going to be a goblet when no one else knew about it?!"

Marcus then saw the surprised looks on his friends' faces and replied flatly, "Lucky guess. Now let's go."

"Where is he?" said Ron, who somehow wasn't listening to a word of the conversation, but looking through the crowd to see what had become of Krum. "Dumbledore didn't say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, did he?"

But this query was answered almost instantly; they were level with the Slytherin table now, and Karkaroff had just bustled up to his students.

"Back to the ship, then," he was saying, "Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"

Marcus saw Krum shake his head as he pulled his furs back on.

"Professor, _I_ vood like some wine," said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.

"I wasn't offering it to _you_ , Poliakoff," snapped Karkaroff, his warmly paternal air vanishing instantly. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy -"

Karkaroff turned and led his students toward the doors, reaching at the exact same moment as Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Marcus wanted nothing more than to get out of the Great Hall and get to his training as quick as possible, but since he wanted to show some courtesy to the foreign students, he stopped himself to let Karkaroff and his students walk through first.

"Thank you," said Karkaroff carelessly, glancing at him and Harry.

And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his back to Marcus and Harry and stared at them as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff's eyes moved slowly up Harry's face and fixed upon his scar before staring at Marcus' pure white hair. The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at Marcus and Harry too.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus saw comprehension dawn on a few of their faces. The boy with food all down his front nudged the girl next to him and pointed openly at Harry's forehead and Marcus' hair.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter and Marcus Williams," said a growling voice from behind them.

Professor Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster.

The color drained from Karkaroff's face as Marcus watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him.

"You!" he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him.

"Me," said Moody grimly. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter and Williams, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking tthe doorway."

This much was true; half the students in the Hall were now waiting behind them, looking over one another's shoulders to see what was causing the holdup.

Without another word, Professor Karkaroff swept his students away with him. Moody watched him until he was out of sight, his magical eye fixed upon his back, a look of intense dislike upon his mutilated face.

* * *

As Marcus, Lorelei, and Cedric were finishing up with their evening workout, Lorelei said, "So, how exactly do you know that Beauxbaton girl?"

Marcus explained as much of it as he could, as much of his time in Paris when he was four years old was still blank.

At the end, Lorelei said, "Oh. Well, why didn't you say so at the feast?"

"Because I didn't want all of my friends to grill me for details and especially Ron, who looked like he was about to drool," said Marcus flatly. "Besides, I had only fully remembered in that moment."

"Well, I can see why you wanted to remain silent," said Cedric as he was getting his robes on from behind a blind. "A lot of guys weren't happy about that little scene at the feast."

"Yeah, I could tell," said Marcus. "So, Cedric, something I have to ask: Are there students in Hogwarts that are seriously going to try putting my name in the Goblet of Fire?"

Cedric sighed and said, "Unfortunately, yes. There are some fellow seventh-years that are of age that want to put your name in the Goblet of Fire under the pretense of putting in their own name."

"Why is everyone so keen to see me participate in this damn tournament?!" growled Marcus.

"Because the people are confident you'd win," said Lorelei. "Let's be honest: You haven't failed or lost at anything you've put forth effort in, no matter how many other people have been involved."

"But it's because of the help of other people that I'm doing as well as I am!" remarked Marcus. "Without the help of others, I wouldn't be anywhere near where I am today!"

He then took a deep sigh and said, "Cedric, Lorelei, we're going."

"Huh?" said the two of them. "Going where?"

"To the entrance hall," said Marcus. "Cedric, we're going to have your name put in the Goblet of Fire."

Cedric took a sharp breath, but nonetheless said, "Right. One second."

Cedric then took a nearby bit of parchment, wrote very clearly, _"Cedric Diggory - Hogwarts"_ and said, pocketing the bit of parchment, "All right, let's go."

"Hold on," said Marcus, casting the Disillusionment Charm on Cedric and Lorelei before casting it upon himself. Once it took effect, he then said, "Now, let's go."

It was a pretty standard night, nothing too complicated for Marcus and Lorelei to get around, though there were a few moments in which Cedric wasn't being careful enough and almost got them caught.

Once they arrived in the entrance hall, Marcus stopped at the foot of the marble staircase and whispered, "All right, Cedric, go ahead."

"You're not going to get near it?" whispered Cedric.

"Not a chance," Marcus whispered back, seeing the wispy white, circling smoke around the table with the Goblet of Fire on it. "I already said I wouldn't get near the damn thing. Besides, you're the only one that can get over the Age Line. So, go ahead."

"Right," said Cedric. It took about a minute, but Marcus eventually saw the Goblet of Fire accepting Cedric's slip of parchment.

"All right," Cedric whispered. "I'm in."

"Fantastic," whispered Marcus. "You're a shoo-in for sure."

"Thanks, Marcus," whispered Cedric. "All right, I'm going to head for my common room. See you all tomorrow night after the selections?"

"Definitely," whispered Lorelei.

Once the two of them were making their way back to the Gryffindor common room, Lorelei whispered, "Marcus, you really think Cedric's going to get selected?"

"Lorelei, no one else comes close to his attributes," whispered Marcus. "Besides, there's the Age Line, and I'm sure it's being watched over like a hawk watches over prey. Really, I think there's nothing to worry about."

"Even if you see that pitch-black aura around that goblet with your enhanced vision?" whispered Lorelei.

As Marcus and Lorelei entered the common room, they both lifted the Disillusionment Charm on them and Marcus asked, "How did you -?!"

"You were like this when you saw the Basilisk through the walls your second year, remember?" said Lorelei, speaking in a normal voice. "On edge, never knowing where doom and disaster was going to strike next. If you're as confident as you say you are, then there shouldn't be any reason to be worried."

"Well, I know there's not, Lorelei, it's just -" Marcus began.

Noticing the cutoff, Lorelei asked, "Just what?"

"Something's not right," said Marcus. "It's just this feeling I'm getting. Like my whole world's going to crash down upon me. I felt this way not too long ago, at the Quidditch World Cup, and that was right before the Death Eaters began their attacks. Well, I'm going to crash on the bed. See you in the morning for our workout."

As Marcus went up to his four-poster bed in his dormitory, he was grateful that he didn't convey just how terrified he was of the next twenty-four hours.

* * *

As The Dark Prince finished taking his shower and putting on his attire, he was pleased to see that his physical recovery was going much more smoothly than initially planned. And once his physical strength recovered, it was only a matter of time before he would gain complete and full use of his magical prowress.

As he was exiting the shower, he felt his right shoulder tingle slightly, followed by a rather squeaky, annoying voice say in his head, _"My Prince, My Prince, come in. This is Wormtail."_

Sighing due to the unfortunate event of hearing his voice, The Dark Prince pressed his left index finger into the area where his crown mark was located and thought, _"What is it, peon?"_

 _"I have that status report you wanted,"_ said Wormtail in his mind. _"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang have arrived at Hogwarts and the Triwizard Tournament has officially begun. There is a little under twenty-four hours until the champions are selected."_

The Dark Prince sighed and thought, _"Not bad, Wormtail, for a wretch of a wizard. And I'm right in saying that there hasn't been any complications?"_

 _"All of the pieces have been laid into place,"_ replied Wormtail. _"We are ready to initiate at the Dark Lord's command."_

 _"Good, good,"_ thought the Dark Prince. _"Give the go ahead on the Dark Lord's behalf. If we are to ensure success in placing Harry Potter in the tournament, we must strike when the people least expect it."_

 _"My Prince, how much longer until you return?"_ asked Wormtail. _"The Dark Lord grows more impatient from you not being there by his side."_

 _"I'll only be forty-eight more hours longer,"_ thought the Dark Prince.

 _"Forty-eight -?!"_ sputtered Wormtail. _"But - but -"_

 _"Problem?"_ thought the Dark Prince, making sure to convey his immense dissatisfaction with being questioned by someone as low as him.

 _"Well, he clearly wants you to oversee the potion, My Prince,"_ said Wormtail. _"And he doesn't believe me to be up to the task."_

 _"Well, there's no blaming him there,"_ thought The Dark Prince scathingly. _"Regardless, I have business in which requires the delicate touch that I possess. Once my errands have run their course, I will return. Keep the Dark Lord occupied, or you will feel my wrath firsthand, and you do not want to put yourself in a more unfavorable position with me than you already have, you worthless sack of flesh!"_

He then released his left index finger, cutting off the connection.

Taking in a deep sigh, he said out loud, "That's much better. Now then -"

He made his way over to the nearby table just at the front entrance of the gym, where a small roll of parchment was sitting there.

He picked it up, looking at it intently before placing it within the pockets of his cloak and said, "Time to take care of some delicate matters."

He then took only two steps out of the fitness gym before Disapparating into the night...

* * *

Feeling pretty satisfied with the next morning's workouts, they decided to go down to the Great Hall for breakfast immediately after they showered up and got dressed. They weren't surprised to see that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had decided to get down to the Great Hall for breakfast earlier than they would have on a Saturday morning. So, the five of them decided to head down together.

When they arrived into the entrance hall, they saw about twenty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. It was sitting in the exact same position it was last night when Cedric entered his name in it, only this time Marcus noticed that the goblet was sitting on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. It also still had that thin golden line traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.

"Anyone put their name in yet?" Ron asked a third-year girl eagerly.

"All the Durmstrang lot," she replied. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."

"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," said Harry. "I would've if it had been me...wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the goblet just gobbed you right back out again?"

Marcus and Lorelei shared a smirk that went unnoticed by everyone else upon hearing Harry saying such words.

Marcus then heard someone laughing behind him. Turning, he saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase, all three of them looking extremely excited.

"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Marcus, Lorelei, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Just taken it."

"What?" said Ron.

"The Aging Potion, dung brains," said Fred.

"One drop each," said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," said Lee, grinning broadly.

"I'll make you split your Galleons right now, Fred and George" said Marcus with a smirk on his face. "I'll wager 30 Galleons - fifteen each - that, not only will this _not_ work, but you'll end up sprouting magnificent beards."

"Deal!" said Fred and George, shaking Marcus' right hand in turns.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said Hermione warningly. "Marcus usually has a good reason for making bets. I'm sure he knows that Dumbledore will have thought of everything."

Fred, George, and Lee ignored her.

"Ready?" Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon, then - I'll go first -"

Marcus watched, with amusement, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words _Fred Weasley - Hogwarts_. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

For a split second Marcus felt a little worried that he actually succeeded - George certainly thought so, for he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after Fred - but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor,and just like Marcus expected to happen, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.

Marcus sighed with relief as the entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.

"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

After giving Marcus a total of thirty galleons, Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter.

As Harry, Ron, and Hermione were chortling from it, Lorelei looked at Marcus and said, "Well, mind justifying yourself?"

Marcus, with a smirk on his face, said, "I'm confident that both my father and Dumbledore collaborated with the Age Line, leaving me no doubt that they thought of everything. That, and knowing the side effects of an Aging Potion, made this the easiest thirty Galleons I've ever gotten."

The five of them then went into the Great Hall, where it was evident that the decorations had been changed out from last night. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. Marcus followed behind Harry over to Dean and Seamus, who were discussing those Hogwarts students of seventeen or over who might be entering.

"There's a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in," Dean told Harry and Marcus. "That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth."

Marcus saw Harry shaking his head in disgust before Harry said, "We can't have a Slytherin champion!"

"We won't," said Marcus with confidence.

"And what makes you so sure?" Seamus asked him.

"Because Cedric Diggory will be the Hogwarts Champion," Marcus stated.

"I did hear all the Hufflepuffs talking about Diggory," said Seamus contemptously. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks."

"Listen!" said Hermione suddenly.

People were cheering out in the entrance hall. They all swiveled around in their seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. A tall black girl who played Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Angelina came over to them, sat down, and said, "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"

"You're kidding!" said Ron, looking impressed.

"Are you seventeen, then," asked Harry.

"Well, of course she is, Harry," said Marcus. "You don't see a beard on her face, do you?"

"I had my birthday last week," said Angelina.

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," said Hermione. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"

"Thanks, Hermione," said Angelina, smiling at her.

"Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory," said Seamus, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table and Marcus to scowl heavily at him.

"What're we going to do today, then?" Ron asked Marcus, Harry, and Hermione when they had finished breakfast and were leaving the Great Hall. Marcus honestly wanted to spend time with Lorelei, but seeing as her fellow third-year friends practically whisked her away immediately after finishing breakfast, he decided to just go with the flow today.

"We haven't been down to visit Hagrid yet," said Harry.

"Okay," said Ron, "just as long as he doesn't ask us to donate a few fingers to the skrewts."

A look of great excitement suddenly dawned on Hermione's face.

"I've just realized - I haven't asked Hagrid to join S.P.E.W. yet!" she said brightly. "Wait for me, will you, while I nip upstairs and get the badges?"

"What is it with her?" said Ron, exasperated, as Hermione ran away up the marble staircase.

"Hey, Ron," said Harry suddenly. "It's your friend..."

The students from Beauxbatons were coming through the front doors from the grounds, among them, Ms. Delacour. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly.

Madam Maxime entered the hall behind her students and organized them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned briefly red and emitted sparks.

"What d'you reckon'll happen to the ones who aren't chosen?" Ron muttered to Marcus and Harry as Ms. Delacour dropped her parchment into the Goblet of Fire. "Reckon they'll go back to school, or hang around to watch the tournament?"

"Dunno," said Harry. "Hang around, I suppose."

"Well, it's obvious all the candidates will stick around," said Marcus. "Since their headmistress, Madam Maxime, is one of the tournament judges."

When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted their names, Madame Maxime led them back out of the hall and out onto the grounds again.

"Where are _they_ sleeping, then?" said Ron, moving toward the front doors and staring after them.

Marcus just sighed and said, "The Beauxbatons will be staying in their giant carriage, just as the Durmstrang students will be staying on their ship. No foreign delegates will be sleeping inside the Hogwarts castle, Ron. I thought that much was obvious."

Ron gave him a look of anger just as a loud rattling noise behind them announcd Hermione's appearance with the box of S.P.E.W. badges.

"Oh good, hurry up," said Ron, and he jumped down the stone steps, keeping his eyes on the back of Ms. Delacour, who was now halfway across the lawn with Madame Maxime.

As they neared Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, what Marcus said not a minute ago seemed to be true; the gigantic powder-blue carriage in which they had arrived had been parked two hundred yards from Hagrid's front door, and the students were climbing back inside it. The elephantine flying horses that had pulled the carriage were now grazing in a makeshift paddock alongside it.

Harry knocked on Hagrid's door, and Fang's booming barks answered instantly.

"'Bout time!" said Hagrid, when he'd flung open the door. "Thought you lot'd forgotten where I live!"

"We've been really busy, Hag -" Hermione started to say, but then she stopped dead, looking up at Hagrid, apparently lost for words.

She wasn't the only one, in Marcus' mind. Hagrid was wearing his best (and very horrible) hairy brown suit, plus a checked yellow-and-orange tie. This wasn't the worst of it, though; he had evidently tried to tame his hair, using large quantities of what appeared to be axle grease. It was now slicked down into two bunches - perhaps he had tried a ponytail like Bill's, but found he had too much hair. The look didn't suit him in the slightest. For a moment, Hermione goggled at him, then, obviously decided not to comment, she said, "Erm - where are the skrewts?"

"Out by the pumpkin patch," said Hagrid happily. "They're gettin' massive, mus' be nearly three foot long by now. On'y trouble is, they've started to killin' each other."

"Oh no, really?" said Hermione, shooting a repressive look at Ron who, staring at Hagrid's odd hairstyle, had just opened his mouth to say something about it.

"Yeah," said Hagrid sadly. "'S'okay, though, I've got 'em in separate boxes now. Still got abou' twenty."

"Well, that's lucky," said Ron sarcastically. Marcus would've rolled his eyes, but he agreed with Ron too much to do such a thing.

Hagrid's cabin comprised a single room, in one corner of which was a gigantic bed covered in a patchwork quilt. A similarly enormous wooden table and chairs stood in front of the fire beneath the quantity of cured hams and dead birds hanging from the ceiling. They sat down at the table while Hagrid started to tea, and were soon immersed in yet more discussion of the Triwizard Tournament, much to Marcus' chagrin. Hagrid seemed quite as excited about it as Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"You wait," he said, grinning. "You jus' wait. Yer going ter see some stuff yeh've never seen before. Firs' task...ah, but I'm not supposed ter say."

"Go on, Hagrid!" Harry, Ron, and Hermione urged him while Marcus remained silent, but Hagrid just shook his head, grinning.

"I don' want ter spoil it fer yeh," said Hagrid. "But it's gonna be spectacular, I'll tell yeh that. Them champions're going ter have their work cut out. Never thought I'd live ter see the Triwizard Tournament played again!"

Not two seconds after Hagrid finished his sentence, there was a knock on his door.

"I'll get it," said Marcus, rather eager to step away from the conversation, even if it was a few seconds.

He opened the door to find a Beauxbatons student, a male in his late teens at the position of attention.

"I vas told that one Mar-kees Villiams vas currently here," said the late teen in a heavy, nasily French accent.

" _Je suis_ Marcus Williams," said Marcus to the French teen. " _Ce qui vous am_ _e_ _me ici?_ "

" _Votre pr_ _e_ _sence est demand_ _e_ _e, Monseuir_ Williams," said the French teen. _"Suivre me, s'il vous pl_ _a_ _it."_

" _Un instant,_ " said Marcus, who turned to the others and said, "Well, I guess I'll be taking my leave. Time to go to their giant carriage."

"Wait, Marcus, you can speak French?!" said Hermione.

"I'll tell you guys at the feast tonight," said Marcus, feeling rather indifferent about his knowledge of the French language. "See you guys later."

He exited the cabin with the French teen, who looked neither impressed with the fact that Marcus spoke fluent French nor of Hagrid's establishment. Really, Marcus couldn't get a read on him, as he didn't talk to him in the short walk they took to the carriage.

He still didn't speak when they arrived and remained silent when he opened the carriage door and stood at the position of attention. The only thing he did is gesture Marcus inside with his free hand.

The moment he entered the carriage, he was reminded of the enchanted tents at the Quidditch World Cup, except that the carriage far outclassed any tent possible.

It was a four floor, intricately laid out mansion, to put it simply. Each room within the carriage looked as if it had its own function, their own classroom. It was very fancy, but Marcus could tell it only served the most basic of necessity without feeling underpriveliged.

There were a few Beauxbatons students that gave him a quizzical look, but he wasn't really receiving any looks of apprehension.

All of a sudden, he heard a voice on the entrance floor call out, "Zere you are, Mar-kees! Come, sit over 'ere!"

He saw Ms. Delacour sitting in one of the ten tables on the entrance floor, with tea cup in hand and a rather happy expression on her face.

"Hello, Ms. Delacour," said Marcus with a smirk on his face as he walked over to her table.

As he sat down, she said, "Oh, please, Marcus. You can call me Fleur."

"Well, Fleur," said Marcus. "I must say, it really is great to see you again."

"As it is great to see you," said Fleur. "I did not know that zou could speak French. Your escort vas very impressed."

"A good credit to his discipline, then," said Marcus. "You couldn't even tell he was human."

"Vell, some of my fellow students do get a bit carried away with Beauxbatons standards," said Fleur. "So, tell me, Mar-kees, can you tell me, honestly, that you remember our promise?"

"Well, Fleur," Marcus said, sighing a little, "I only remembered bits and pieces from over this past summer and being back at Hogwarts. The -um, well...event - from my fifth birthday messed with my memory pretty bad."

"Ze one with the Dark Prince, no?" asked Fleur with a look of concern. He nodded and she responded, "Well, Mar-kees, ze part that matters is zat you remember, zat you were able to recall."

"Yes, yes, this is true," said Marcus with a smirk.

"So, Mar-kees, what all has happened these long years?"

They then spent half the day, conversing and talking, almost as if no time had passed at all. Enjoying a very good lunch put together by their staff of house-elves, Marcus felt that he was pretty happy, a feeling he had not felt since coming back to Hogwarts this year.

" **So, Fleur, this carriage seems pretty nice** ," said Marcus around five in the evening.

" **Oh, well, we mainly use it on field trips and out-of-country practical lessons,"** Fleur replied. " **Really, we've never had to use it for something as extensive as this before."**

 **"But you're not worried?"**

 **"Well, a little. I'm not quite sure Hogwarts can exactly accomodate to the standards we are used to."**

Marcus felt a little irritated by this remark, but nonetheless kept a positive look on her face and said, " **Well, Hogwarts does have a way of surprising people. Sure surprised me the first time."**

Fluer then gasped and said, " **Speaking of surprises, I want to introduce you to someone."**

" **Oh? Someone close?"**

" **Yes, to my little sister, Gabrielle,** " Fluer stated excitedly. " **She is just the most adorable little sister I could ever ask for. Hold on a second.** "

She turned and asked the nearest Beauxbatons student where her little sister was in very fast French, to the point where he couldn't understand much of it, but he could understand the rather sad expression on the students face, which lead Marcus to come to the conclusion that the student did not know where her little sister was.

This made Fleur get concerned, as she turned to Marcus and ask, " **Could you wait a few minutes, Mar-kees? I need to look around the carriage."**

While Marcus was waiting for Fleur to return, his sense suddenly gone out of whack again. He heard numerous conversations in French, the banging and clanging of dishes in the carriage's kitchen and the smell of complex French cuisines, which threw him off entirely.

He tried to take deep breaths to relax and get his senses under control, but nothing he could do would work. After a few minutes, he was almost able to block out the unnecessary sounds and smell when something alarmed him.

He heard a distant voice, perhaps a mile away, at most. It was a young and terrified voice speaking what was no doubt French, saying the same things over and over again.

" **Help me! Help me! Somebody, anybody, help me!** "

And then he heard additional sounds...the sounds of vicious snarling only a little way past the terrified voice...

Marcus was jolted back to reality when a hand was touching his left shoulder and a voice said, "Mar-kees, are you all right?"

He saw that it was Fleur, who had the same look of concern from earlier today.

"The Forbidden Forest," said Marcus in what was clearly a voice of great worry.

"What?" said Fleur.

"Fleur, go and alert Madame Maxime immediately!" said Marcus, feeling quite alarmed. "Wait for me at the entrance to the carriage!"

He then got out of his chair and quickly made his way to the carriage door. Upon exiting, he immediately started sprinting into the Forbidden Forest.

"Someone's in danger!" he said out loud to himself. "I won't let someone get hurt while I can do something about it!"

Once he knew that it was safe to do so, he leapt forward while shifting into Leo, his Animagus form of a barbary lion, and proceeded to keep running.

While he took the form of Leo, he was granted having what he termed "Negative Vision", a type of vision that, while devoid of all normal colors, gave him complete and intricate detail of his surroundings.

He scanned the forest while running until, about fifteen hundred feet in front of him, he saw what he was looking for: A young girl who was backed up to one of the trees, still calling for help as she was staring at no less than seven werewolves about fifty feet away, slowly advancing towards the young girl.

More alarmed than ever, Leo tried running through the forest as he could. But, his instincts kicked in and he realized that, even as fast as he was going, he wouldn't intercept in time...not unless he did something...

In response, Leo roared as loud as he could, which sounded much more terrifying than he remembered.

Regardless, it seemed to have worked: The werewolves, so confident that they got easy prey, now looked heavily uneasy as they knew they weren't as alone as they thought.

And, when Leo finally arrived, he blindsided the werewolves with such fury and terror, the werewolves didn't know what hit them. Before they realized what even happened, three werewolves were maimed at the legs and backs and the other four were helpless to fight him effectively. The skirmish did not last long, and the werewolves had no choice but to retreat into the deeper depth of the Forbidden Forest.

Leo quickly looked to see that the little girl, dressed in Beauxbatons attire, had her eyes closed by putting her hands over her face. Acting just as fast, Leo ran only about a hundred feet away behind her and shifted back to normal.

"Hello?" Marcus called out, walking towards her, acting as if he was on an evening stroll. "Is anyone out there?"

" _Oui, Oui!"_ cried the little girl, who looked on the verge of tears, running towards him.

" **Can you understand me?** " asked Marcus in French.

" **Yes** ," said the little girl, clearly still terrified.

" **Tell me your name and why you ended up out here**."

" **I am Gabrielle Delacour, and I was bored and wanted to explore and I ended up being out here. Those creatures came out of nowhere and I didn't know what to do.** "

Marcus looked at her and said, " **Hogwarts refers to this forest as The Forbidden Forest, and it is named such because it is too dangerous for anyone underaged to enter it. You're lucky you weren't hurt.** "

The girl nodded.

Marcus then turned around, knelt, and said, " **Get on my shoulders, Gabrielle. Nothing in this forest will harm you while you ride upon my shoulders.** "

He saw the look on Gabrielle's face go from terrified to reassured to happy in quite a short timespan as she eagerly got on his shoulders.

From the time it took to leave their position in the Forbidden Forest, which was quite deep, and exiting said forest, they had a diverse conversation in French, most of which was her asking questions about Hogwarts and of himself. The questions about Hogwarts, Marcus was quick to answer, but in regards to himself, he mostly skirted around them.

Finally, they exited the Forbidden Forest and only walked fifty feet away from it when they heard a familiar voice cry out, "GABRIELLE!"

Marcus quickly put Gabrielle on the ground as Fleur and Madame Maxime rushed over to them, Gabrielle rushing back to them. Gabrielle then flew into the open arms of Fleur, the latter of whom looked thoroughly relieved.

Madame Maxime then looked to Marcus and said, " **What just happened, boy?!** "

Irritated by the headmistress's rudeness, he forced down that feeling and calmly stated, " **Gabrielle inadvertently went into the Forbidden Forest, Madame Maxime. I was able to find her in time, she has not been harmed.** "

He noticed that Fleur and Gabrielle were caught up in a fast conversation as Madame Maxime said, " **Well, this is simply an outrage! I shall go to Dumbly-dorre at once!** "

" **Professor Dumbledore would tell you that the Forbidden Forest is expressely out-of-bounds to all students in Hogwarts, and I'm willing to say that the same extends to the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. I, no doubt, will be punished for merely entering the Forbbiden Forest, even if it was to save an innocent girl.** "

Madame Maxime looked caught off guard, but nonetheless said, " **Very well, boy. You have done us a great service. I shall inform Dumbly-dorr of this.** "

" **Many thanks, esteemed headmistress of Beauxbatons** ," said Marcus, bowing. " **I shall take my leave**."

With that, Marcus set off towards Hagrid's cabin, hoping that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still there.

He found himself being thoroughly relieved when the three of them had just emerged from the cabin.

"How was visiting with Hagrid?" Marcus asked.

"Oh, we have plenty to tell you, that's for sure," Ron said, looking rather incredulous. "But, let's get going! The feast'll be starting soon!"

The four of them had barely started walking when Hermione looked over by the lake and whispered, "Ooh, it's them, look!"

Marcus looked to see that the Durmstrang party was walking up toward the castle from the lake. Viktor Krum was walking side by side with Karkaroff, and the other Durmstrang students were straggling along behind them. Ron watched Krum excitedly, but Krum did not look around as he reached the front doors a little ahead of Marcus, Hermione, Ron, and Harry and proceeded through them.

When they entered the candelit Great Hall it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table. Fred and George - clean-shaven again - seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well.

"Hope it's Angelina," said Fred as Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down.

"So do I!" said Hermione breathlessly. "Well, we'll soon know!"

As Lorelei found her seat next to Marcus, the Halloween Feast was underway, though it seemed to take much longer than usual. Wether it was the fact that it was their second feast in two days or that there was the choosing of the tournament's champions, Marcus welcomed it, regardless. The foreboding chill he felt upon entering the Great Hall did not desist.

It seemed that he was the only one not looking forward to the choosing, as he saw constant craning necks, impatient expressions on every face, and great fidgeting on top of standing up to see if Professor Dumbledore had finished eating yet.

Unfortunately for Marcus, the golden plates had at last returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored. Marcus looked at the Goblet of Fire, enhanced his vision, and saw that the same pitch-black aura was still present, which set Marcus on edge.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" - he indicated the door behind the staff table - "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Marcus then felt a great wave of deja vu hitting him, far greater than anything before. Marcus someone knew he wanted to be anywhere but here, in the Great Hall. Almost as if to expect it, Lorelei looked at him and said, "Marcus, you can't leave. It would look too suspicious."

Marcus gulped and turned back to the staff table as Dumbledore took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting...a few people kept checking their watches...

"Any second," Lee Jordan whispered, some seats away from Marcus.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it - the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice. "will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprises there!" yelled Ron as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Marcus saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared though the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

"It's her, Ron!" Marcus heard Harry shout as Fleur got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. "Disappointed" was a vast understatement, Marcus believed, as he saw two of the girls that did not get selected dissolving into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.

When Fleur too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it.

Marcus, however, felt anything but excited. His heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute, he found himself breaking out in a cold sweat. He didn't know how he could feel this way, as it should be impossible for anyone underaged to be picked. But, as the Hogwarts champion was up for selection, he couldn't bring himself to relax, not until the champion had been chosen.

As if time slowed down, Marcus watched the Goblet of Fire turn red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbeldore pulled the third piece of parchment.

Marcus knew something was wrong the moment Dumbledore looked upon the piece of parchment, for he looked at Professor McGonagall, who must have understood what Dumbledore was trying to convey, because she was quick to exit out the door closest to the staff table.

Upon her exit, Professor Dumbledore looked to everyone and said, "The Hogwarts champion...is Marcus Williams!"

" _WHAT?!"_ roared Marcus, his fears quickly washed away with a level of anger, the likes of which he hardly felt in a long time. His roar, however, was quickly drowned by the student body's roar of approval, the clapping quite thunderous as the vast amount of Hogwarts students were on their feet. He looked around, appalled to see that their was hardly any faces of apprehension. In fact, all he could see was joy and happiness that he was selected as the Hogwarts Champion, seeming to forget that no one under seventeen was to be selected.

Marcus tried to take very deep, rythmic breaths as he approached Dumbledore, but found himself spectacularly failing as he was still very much angry when standing in front of Dumbledore as he was upon his initial reaction of him being selected.

He wasn't surprised to see that Dumbledore wasn't smiling.

"Surely, Professor, you knew I didn't want to be in this tournament," muttered Marcus through gritted teeth. He was trying to be polite, but since he was still quite angry, it didn't come across it as such.

"We'll figure this out," said Dumbledore simply. "In the meantime -" he gestured to the side chamber - "if you please."

Marcus hurried himself to the side chamber and entered it, where it was lined with paintings of witches and wizards, a handsome fire roaring in the fireplace opposite of where he was standing, at the entrance.

Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour were standing on the opposite sides of the fireplace, both of whom looked lost in thought. However, when Marcus started to walk towards them, they turned and saw him coming towards them.

"Mar-kees!" Fleur said excitedly. "Has the Hogwarts champion been chosen?"

"Yeah," growled Marcus through gritted teeth. "You're looking at him."

 **And this concludes this exciting chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review on this story, as this helps refine my skills as a writer! Also, if you wanted to ask me any questions, please don't hesitate to leave me a PM and, I promise, I will answer them to the best of my abilities! Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	17. (17) No Turning Back

**Welcome, everyone, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! As we're continuing forward with the adventure, I'll just say this:**

 **Disclaimer: I have no ownership of HP save for OC's.**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter 17: No Turning Back

 **Enjoy, one and all!**

Both champions looked very much caught off guard by Marcus' statement.

"But, Mar-kees," said Fleur. "Surely, zou must be kidding!"

"Does it look like I'm joking right now?" growled Marcus.

"Vell, vis is perfect," said Krum, who approached Marcus with an odd look of satisfaction on his face. "I'd thought I'd have to take care of this matter some other way, but it seems fate has smiled upon me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You, Marcus Villiams," said Krum with his thick accent, "are the reason my Quidditch family is depressed right now, fighting their tears at night because of their loss to the U.S. All-Stars this past summer. When I heard that the Triwizard Tournament vas taking place at Hogwarts, I did not hesitate to join, for I knew I would run into you eventually. If I cannot have my vengenance on the U.S. All-Stars, I will have the next best thing: Defeating the one who gave that team that despicable strategy, Marcus Villiams!"

At his last sentence, he pointed a finger directly at him to emphasize his point.

Marcus found himself quite floored with what Krum was saying to him.

"So, you're telling me that you came all the way to Hogwarts from Durmstrang, put your name in for contention for the Triwizard Tournament, and got chosen, all for the simple fact of exacting your vengence on me, just because the U.S. All-Stars implemented _my_ Quidditch strategy?"

"That is exactly my point," said Krum with a straight face and fire in his eyes.

Marcus scoffed and said, "So, this is Viktor Krum, highly famed International Quidditch Seeker of the Quidditch World. Consider me very much unimpressed."

Marcus enhanced his vision as he looked at Krum's face and continued, "You came to me looking to settle the score of a matter that you couldn't handle accepting the truth. How pathetic. Well, guess what, Krum? Here I am, ready to go. But, why wait for the Triwizard Tournament to play out? I'll duel you here and now and really show you just how pathetic you really are."

Marcus summoned his wand, gripped it, and pointed it at Krum, who got out his own wand and pointed it at Marcus. Marcus could see that Krum wasn't going to back down, which he welcomed. He wanted this, if nothing else, to release all this pent up anger and aggression.

Suddenly, Marcus heard the door opening up from behind him, which broke his concentration, making him look behind to see who it was.

He was utterly bewildered to find Harry standing at the entrance, wearing a look of bewilderment himself.

"Harry, what the hell are you doing here?" asked Marcus, not liking what he was seeing one bit.

"Perhaps he is bringing us back to ze Great Hall, to make sure we receive our instructions," said Fleur.

Before Harry could say anything, there was a sound of scurrying feet behind Harry, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Harry by the arm and led him forward.

"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Harry's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentleman...lady," he added, adressing them all. "May I introduce - incredible though it may seem - the _fourth_ Triwizard champion?"

Marcus saw Viktor Krum straighten up, his surly face darkening as he surveyed Harry. Marcus himself felt completely blindsided while Fleur tossed her hair smiling and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Marcus still felt too blindsided to say anything. Fleur, however, frowned.

"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said contemptously to Bagman. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young."

"So am I!" said Marcus, finally speaking, yet in an angry tone. "Yet here I am, chosen as Hogwarts Champion! I'll be sure to inform the organizers of this tournament how dissastisfied I am of this outcome!"

"Well...it is amazing, to say the least," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry and Marcus, unaware of his anger. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And, Marcus, as both your name and Harry's came out of the goblet...I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage...It's down in the rules, you're both obliged...you and Harry will just have to do the best you -"

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Marcus could hear the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall before Professor McGonagall closed the door.

"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"

"Okay, so how is it that it's okay for _me_ to be selected, but not Harry?" asked Marcus in an angry tone to Fleur.

"You 'ave proven your worth to be here, Mar-kees," said Fleur flatly. _"He_ -" Fleur pointed to Harry -" has not!"

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.

"What is ze meaning of this, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. " _Two_ Hogwarts champions, both underaged? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school could do as they pleased - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

He gave a short and nasty laugh.

" _C'est impossible_ ," said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It's not one's fault but Potter's and Williams', Karkaroff," said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for the boys' determination to break rules. They have been crossing lines ever since they arrived here -"

"No one asked for your biased opinion, you -" Marcus started to retort.

"That's enough," said Dumbledore firmly, and both Snape and Marcus went quiet, though Snape's eyes still glinted malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair.

Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at Marcus and Harry, both of whom looked right back at him, trying to discern the expression of the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.

"Marcus, Harry, did you two put your names into the Goblet of Fire?" he asked calmly.

"No," said Marcus and Harry. Marcus was aware of everybody watching him closely. Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows.

"Did either of you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire on your behalfs?" said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring Snape.

" _No_ ," said the boys vehemently.

"Ah, but of course zey are lying!" cried Madame Maxime. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.

"They could not have crossed the Age Line," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that -"

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime, shrugging.

"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely.

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you and Michael did not make a mistake!" said Professor McGonagall angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Marcus and Harry could not have crossed the line themselves, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that they did not persuade an older student to do it for them, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"

She shot an angry look at Professor Snape.

"Mr. Crouch...Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, "you are our - er - objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.

"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.

"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff. he had dropped his unctuous tone and his smile now. His face wore a very ugly look indeed. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out - it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament -"

"- in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" exploded Karkaroff. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a voice from the near door.

"You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete," stated a familiar voice. "They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. It's pretty convenient, isn't it?"

Moody had just entered the room, followed by (to Marcus' utter horror), Michael Williams, his father. Moody limped toward the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a loud _clunk_.

"Convenient?" said Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody, Williams."

Marcus could tell he was trying to sound disdainful, as though what Moody and Michael were saying was barely worth his notice, but Marcus wasn't fooled. Karkaroff's hands were balled into fists and his eyes were full of a mixture of anger and fear, his eyes fixed directly upon Michael Williams.

"Don't you?" said Moody quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter and young Williams' names in that goblet knowing they'd have to compete if their names came out."

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" said Madame Maxime.

"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing to her. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic _and_ the International Confederation of Wizards -"

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter and Williams," growled Moody. "but...funny thing...I don't hear _them_ saying a word..."

 _"That's because I'm too livid to speak to speak out about it,"_ thought Marcus.

"Why should zey complain?" burst out Fleur, stamping her foot. "Zey 'ave ze chance to compete, 'aven't zey? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!"

"Maybe someone's hoping Marcus and Harry _are_ going to die for it," said Michael in a tone of stern anger rarely heard by Marcus.

An extremely tense silence followed these words. Ludo Bagman, who was looking very anxious indeed, bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said, "Michael, my dear man...what a thing to say!"

"We all know Michael Williams' way of thinking falls under Moody's, who considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," said Karkaroff loudly. "Apparently, it wasn't enough for Moody to ensure his replacement at the Minstry models after him, now he has to go and teach his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."

"Imagining things, are we?" growled Moody. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put Potter's name in that goblet..."

"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" said Madame Maxime, throwing up her huge hands.

"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" roared Marcus, finally having enough.

All eyes were on him as Karkaroff said, "It doesn't surprise me that your boy would say outlandish statements, Michael!" Karkaroff then turned to Marcus with a cold stare and said, "Well then, boy. Humor us all and tell us your line of reasoning."

Marucs, however irritated he felt from Karkaroff's statement, said, "It would've taken an exceptionally powerful Confundus Charm to bamboozle the Goblet of Fire into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament. If kept along this line of theory, whoever was reponsible for this - this setup - they would've submitted Harry Potter's name under a fake fourth school, to ensure no doubt that Harry's name would be chosen."

"The boy has a point," said Moody. "The Confundus Charm would be the only spell that would allow the perpetrator to carry out his plan successfully."

Not being able to say anything against Marcus, Karkaroff turned to Moody and said coldly, "You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody, and a very ingenious theory it is - though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday present contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously..."

"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Moody retorted in a menacing voice.

"It's our job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff - as you no doubt would remember long ago..." Michael said in a low voice, but yet loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Michael, Alastor!" said Dumbledore warningly. Marcus wondered for a second who the second person could've been, but then "Mad-Eye" could hardly be Moody's real first name. Moody and Michael fell silent, the latter of whom was staring down Karkaroff with such anger and hate that set Marcus on edge. Karkaroff's face was burning.

"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone gathered in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have been no choice but to accept it. Both Marcus and Harry have been chosen to compete in the tournament. This, therefore, they will do..."

"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr -"

"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."

Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime did not speak, she merely glared. She wasn't the only one either. Snape looked furious; Karkaroff livid; Bagman, however, looked rather excited.

"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"

Mr. Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.

"Yes," he said, "instructions. Yes...the first task..."

He moved forward into the firelight. Close up, Marcus thought he looked ill. He could see the dark shadows setting beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin that had not been there at the Quidditch World Cup.

"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told Marcus, Harry, Fleur, and Viktor, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard...very important...

"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.

"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore.

"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so," said Dumledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr. Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment...I've left young Weatherby in charge...Very enthusiastic...a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told..."

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore.

"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly. "It's all happening now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!" He then turned to Michael and said, "How about you, my good man? Going to stick around?"

"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.

"Only to talk with Marcus and Harry," said Michael in a stern tone. "Then, I'll take my leave."

Marcus didn't like what his father said one bit. Surely, his father didn't believe that him and Harry entered their names in for contention?

"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxime - a nightcap?" said Dumbledore.

But Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. Marcus could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall, with not a whole lot of their conversation being very favorable of Harry. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, but not before Krum shot Marcus another death stare, which did nothing more than irritate him.

"Marcus, Harry, I suggest the two of you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at both of them. "I am sure the whole of Gryffindor House are waiting to celebrate with you both, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

"They will have to be deprived a little bit longer, Dumbledore," said Michael. "I wish to speak with the two of them alone."

"Michael -" said Professor McGonagall in worry.

"Everyone, please leave," said Michael in such a tone of finality that it left no room for debate.

One by one, everyone else except for Marcus, Harry, and Michael exited the room.

Once the three of them were left alone, Marcus said immediately with a bit of fear, "Dad, please tell me there is a way to break this contract. There has to be!"

"Marcus, the Goblet of Fire's contract with the champions is exactly the same as making an Unbreakable Vow," stated Michael. "If you break it, you die, no questions asked."

Marcus blanched and didn't press the matter.

"But, Mr. Williams -" Harry started to say.

"I don't have much time to spare, so I ask that the two of you please remain silent while I'm talking," said Michael. It wasn't an order as it was more of a request. "Now, I don't know how this came to be, and I'm very much unhappy with the situation, but I know for a fact that the both of you are innocent. But, I will be one of the few who will think this way. Everyone else will think that you two entered this tournament of your own accord. All this being said, I will be investigating this matter, so I need the two of you to not dwell on this situation and focus on getting through this tournament, all right?"

Both Harry and Marcus nodded their heads to let him know that they understood.

"Now, a bit of advice before I go," said Michael, "You two were expressely told that you couldn't receive help from your teachers. That does not mean you can't receive any help. Look to other students, books, old information you have already learned and -" he looked directly at Marcus - "even recently acquired information as well."

 _"Figures he would know that I took his Duplication Spell book,"_ thought Marcus. _"I'll take this to mean that his spell will be very useful to me and that I should learn it as quick as I can."_

"I think that's all that I can say for now," said Michael, grabbing a bag of what Marcus knew to be Floo Powder. "The two of you should head back to the Gryffindor common room. It's not nice to keep a party waiting."

He then threw a pinch of Floo Powder at the fireplace, said, "Ministry of Magic!", and stepped through the fire, disappearing with the green flames.

"All right then, Harry, let's go," said Marcus.

As they were making their way to the entrance hall, Harry said, "Well, Marcus, what do you think of this so far?"

"I think this is absolute bullcrap," said Marcus. "Instead of just going through this year with a sense of normality, I get pulled into this tournament I wanted no part in, and my competition is the following: A girl who's a blast from my past, an international Quidditch Seeker who hates my guts and seeks vengence against me because of a strategy I made up in Quidditch Camp, and one of my best and closest friends since before we made our way to Hogwarts."

"I don't get it," said Harry. "How come _we're_ the ones who get pulled into things like this?"

"Easy," said Marcus. "Because we're famous for stopping the most prominent Dark wizards in recent history, and they both want us dead."

"You really think that's what all this is about?"

"It's hard to think not to," said Marcus. "Voldemort wants you dead because you thwarted his plans and the Dark Prince still has me marked for murder. They're just using the Triwizard Tournament to do it, that's all."

"I think we should just focus on getting through this tournament, like your dad said, then we can worry about all that," Harry stated.

"Yeah, you're right," said Marcus. "That reminds me, do you know what this makes us?"

"No, what?"

"Rivals," said Marcus with a smirk. "Think about it: All the things we've accomplished in our time here at Hogwarts has been done together. This'll be the one time we get to compete against each other."

"Yeah, you're right," said Harry with a smirk of his own.

"As such, there will be no helping each other," Marcus said. "I may not want to have been in this tournament, but now that I am, I will win it." He then stuck out his hand and said, "May the best wizard win."

"Same to you, Marcus," said Harry, who shook it.

They didn't realize that they were in front of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor until they were done shaking hands. Marcus then noticed that there was a wizened witch who he recognized from the side chamber and reasoned that she must've dashed all the way up to the Fat Lady just to beat them there. She certainly was sitting in the paiting rather smugly beside the Fat Lady, which only served to irritate Marcus. Both she and the Fat Lady were looking down at them with the keenest interest.

"Well, well, well," said the Fat Lady, "Violet's just told me everything. Who's just been chosen as school champion, then?"

"Balderdash," said Harry dully.

"It most certainly isn't!" said the pale witch indignantly.

"No, no, Vi, it's the password," said the Fat Lady soothingly, and she swung forward on her hinges to let Marcus and Harry into the common room.

The blast of noise that met the boys' ears when the portrait opened almost knocked them backwards. Next thing they knew, they was being wrenched inside the common room by about a dozen pairs of hands, and were facing the whole of Gryffindor House, all of whom were screaming, applauding, and whistling.

"You should've told us the both of you had entered!" bellowed Fred; he looked half annoyed, half deeply impressed.

"How did you two do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!" roared George.

"We didn't," Harry said. "I don't know how we -"

But Angelina had now swooped down upon them; "Oh, I'm so glad that two fellow Gryffindors were chosen!"

"You're going to make Gryffindor House proud, boys, I know it!" shrieked Katie Bell, another of the Gryffindor Chasers.

"We've got food, Marcus, Harry, come and have some -"

"I'm not hungry, I had enough at the feast -"

Marcus wasn't going to tolerate the "party" one bit. He pushed and shoved his way up to the dormitory room so that he could get changed into workout clothes and go to the Room of Requirement.

However, once he did enter the dormitory room to find Ron lying on his bed, still fully dressed.

"Ron!" said Marcus, feeling a little bit on edge. He didn't know how he was going to handle the whole debacle.

When Ron saw Marcus entering the room, Ron got up from the bed, walked over to him, and said to him in a rather rude tone, "There you are, Marcus. I thought for sure you would've gotten caught up with the party."

Feeling a bit apprehensive, he said, "Well, I've got to get to my evening workout session. I'm already late as it is. Speaking of which, Ron...you know I didn't enter my name into the Goblet of Fire, right?"

"Of course you did," said Ron in that same rude tone. "You put on such a strong front in front of everyone, but deep down, you just couldn't resist the challenge presented in front of you. You may have fooled everyone else, Marcus, but not me."

"You're doing a damn good job of being fooled," said Marcus, now feeling a bit livid at Ron's remarks.

"You don't have to keep up the charade, Marcus," said Ron, looking quite angry. "It must've not been all that difficult with the whole of Hogwarts supporting you. I bet you convince Diggory to put your name in the Goblet of Fire when no one else could see it. That sounds like something you would do, after all."

"I'm not going to tolerate the prattling of an immature idiot," said Marcus as he finished changing into his workout clothes. "I'm going to head out now. Thanks for the 'support', asshole."

"Piss off, Williams," said Ron as Marcus cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself, making his way to the Room of Requirement.

* * *

The Dark Prince stood, waiting in a mansion that was currently unoccupied. He hoped the owners wouldn't be back for another hour or so and, even if the owners did, he knew he would just have to deter them long enough for him to do what needed to be done.

Suddenly, there was a _pop!_ and, standing next to him was a cloaked person who the Dark Prince instantly recognized.

"Well, that took long enough, servant," stated the Dark Prince in a cold manner.

"A thousand apologies, my Prince," said the servant, who got on one knee and bowed his head.

"Just give me the report," said the Dark Prince, still using the same cold manner as before.

"The Champions for the Triwizard Tournament have been chosen," said the servant, still bowed and on one knee. "For Durmstrang, it is Viktor Krum, the acclaimed Quidditch Seeker. For Beauxbatons, it is Fleur Delacour, whose knowledge of magic is quite advance for someone her age. And Harry Potter was selected as the fourth champion, in accordance to the Dark Lord's plan."

"And who was selected as the _actual_ Hogwarts Champion?"

There was a slight pause before the servant stated, "M-Marcus Williams, my Prince."

The Dark Prince looked at the servant, who hadn't moved, and grew an amused look on his face and said, "Good, good. And you're absolutely sure of Marcus Williams being the Hogwarts Champions?"

"I would put my life on the line, My Prince," said the servant without hesitation.

The Dark Prince took a sharp breath of elation and said, "Well done, my servant. You have been officially promoted for you prompt servitude, unwavering loyalty, and advanced skillsets. I expect great things in the future from you, my servant."

"Whatever you wish, it will be done," said the servant, who Disapparated with a _pop!_

 _"It's nice to see that everything is falling in place as well as they have,"_ thought the Dark Prince with satisfaction. _"Now, all I need is those other servants to show up."_

As if on cue, the Dark Prince heard two more popping sounds and turned to see two more of his servants, both cloaked, both already bowing on one knee before.

"Ah, right on time," said the Dark Prince. "I see you were successful in acquiring my needed servant for my next task."

"Yes, my Prince," said the servant.

"Consider the debacle at the Quidditch World Cup forgotten," said the Dark Prince. "You may go."

Once the servant Disapparated, the remaining servant said, "My Prince, I did not realize you needed me in such a manner."

"Oh, servant, you sell yourself short," said the Dark Prince in a tone that displayed his never ending confidence. "You may not be much of a duelist, but your talents are such befitting this task I'm about to assign to you."

"A task?" asked the servant.

"Yes, of course," said the Dark Prince, who took out his scroll of parchment from his cloak. He handed the scroll to the servant and said, "Take this scroll, servant, and Disapparate back to your home. Upon arriving there, you are to isolate yourself within a room and memorize all of the contents listed on that scroll. Once you memorize every single detail, you are to do exactly as it says. Once completed, you will wait for my summons, and while you wait, you will go about your everyday business and lifestyle."

"Is this all that you ask of me, my Prince?" asked the servant.

"Should this succeed, yes," said the Dark Prince. "If successful, you will be heavily rewarded and you will no longer be my servant. Am I understood?"

"Yes, my Prince."

"Now, go," stated the Dark Prince.

The servant then quickly Disapparted with a _pop!_

"Now," said the Dark Prince, "I suppose I should see how Riddle is doing.."

He then Disapparted to the Riddle Manor and, after arriving safely, opened the back door, made his way up the stairs, and into the room that contained Lord Voldemort.

"I'm sorry for the late arrival, My Lord," said the Dark Prince, giving him a slight bow. "I had to ensure that everything was carried out exactly as you ordained."

"Has it?" asked the cold, sharp voice of Voldemort.

"Harry Potter's been selected as a fourth champion from the Goblet of Fire, just as planned," stated the Dark Prince.

"Good, good," said Voldemort, his satisfaction lost within the coldness of his voice. "We have given the nudge we need to ensure the success of my plans. Once my faithful servant has fufilled his task, Harry Potter will be within my grasp."

"All because of your guidance, my Lord," said the Dark Prince, slightly bowing again, though he silently scoffed at the ridiculous, cowarding shell of a wizard.

"And I heard that Marcus Williams was selected as Hogwarts champion," said Voldemort. "Is this true?"

"Nothing escapes you, My Lord," said The Dark Prince. "Yes, this is true, Marcus Williams is in the Triwizard Tournament, as well."

"The son of Michael Williams had better not foil my plans, Dark Prince," said Voldemort in a cold tone much more empthasized than before.

"Why, my Lord, we couldn't have asked for a better situation," said the Dark Prince with a smirk on his face. "Just like Bertha Jorkins in Albania, we could use this in a way that would not only benefit us, but open the way in such that would not be possible otherwise."

"Hmm," said Voldemort. "Very well, Dark Prince. I leave you the task of informing my faithful servant of the slight changes in my plan."

"It will be done, My Lord," said the Dark Prince as he exited the room, but not before he cracked a sinister grin on his face...

* * *

When Marcus arrived in the Room of Requirement, he was greeted by Lorelei and Cedric, both of them wearing expressions of worry.

"Marcus, there you are!" Lorelei said. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Not in the slightest," said Marcus, whose senses started to go out of whack the moment he left the Gryffindor common room, "I ended up being in the tournament I wanted no part in, and now I'm left with no other options but to participate and Ron's turned into a self-brainwashed asshole." He then looked to Cedric and said, "I'm really sorry, Cedric. I thought for sure you would get chosen."

"That's all right, Marcus," said Cedric. "Quite honestly, I feel relieved that I'm not in it, though this does leave you in quite the mess."

"That's an understatement!" said Marcus. He was quickly losing his temper, as his senses were going even more haywire than before. Not only could he hear the vast amount of Hogwarts students talking inside the castle and the alluring smell of food coming from the kitchens, he could even feel something different about the air. Something about the air seemed...heavier, somehow, like a substance he could mold to him or manipulate.

His anger only continued to rise as he half-roared, "Senses, knock it off!"

"Marcus, your hands!" shrieked Lorelei.

Marcus, still quite angry, looked down at his hands and noticed that they were on fire. However, the flames weren't hurting his hands, which surprised him. Rather, it was as if it was obeying him somehow.

The flames disappated, leaving Marcus to say, "Hmm, let me try that again!"

This time, he enhanced his vision to see just what this heavy substance in the air he was feeling.

What he saw floored him.

Infinite amount of tiny, colored energy spheres were dancing in the air, like fireflies in an open field.

 _"All right, let's try that again,"_ thought Marcus.

He allowed to let his anger rise and, as he did so, he saw all of the red energy spheres coming towards his hands, gathering more and more.

With a forced yell, the fire once again erupted in his hands.

He then cupped his fingers and saw that the fire condensed itself into fireballs, which were starting to get hotter and hotter.

Finally, he let the fireball disappate as he looked at the shocked faces of Lorelei and Cedric.

"Marcus Williams, you are full of surprises," stated Cedric with awe.

"I've been told," Marcus stated flatly. "All right, it's down to business. I have until November the twenty-fourth to prepare for the first task, so I'll have to change my workouts drastically to train for it."

"Did they say what the first task would involve?" asked Lorelei.

"Nope," Marcus responded. "Go figure, right? Anyway, I know that I really need to crack down on the Duplication Spell, as well as a number of offensive spells."

"I'll help you train, Marcus, in any way I can," said Cedric.

"Me too," said Lorelei, who suddenly hugged him out of nowhere. "You won't be going through this tournament alone, Marcus Williams...not if I have anything to say about it."

Marcus found himself blushing quite deeply as he stuttered, "Um, w-w-well, thanks!"

He then saw Twink flying out of the hood and pointing to himself, floating in front of his face.

"Wait, you too, Twink?" asked an astounded Marcus. "Are you sure?"

Twink then zoomed around the Room at quick speeds, showing how useful he could be.

Marcus looked to the ground, the tears of joy welling up from his eyes. He knew, from this point on, he had to do whatever it took to survive - no, thrive - in this tournament, to show everyone that Marcus Williams is a capable wizard.

Marcus looked up, his face full of determination, and said, "All right, then! Let's do it!"

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review on the story, as it'll help me refine my skills as a writer. Or, if you want to ask me any questions, don't hesitate to send me a PM and, I promise, I will answer your questions to the best of my abilities. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	18. (18) Wand Lore 101

**Welcome, one and all, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! I'm extremely sorry for the lack of updates, life's been kicking my butt lately. However, we're here now, and that is what matters! Also...**

 **Disclaimer: I have no ownership of HP except for the OCs within this series.**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter 18: Wand Lore 101

 **Enjoy!**

When Marcus returned from his morning workout with Lorelei on Saturday morning, it took him a moment to let the fact that he was a Triwizard Champion sink in, a fact that he was still not happy about. He was hoping to speak to both Harry and Ron when he was done showering and changing into new clothes, the latter of whom he could try convincing his innocence. However, when he did just that, only Harry was in the dormitory - Ron was not there, which left Marcus to believe that he had already gone down to breakfast.

Marcus and Harry decided to go to breakfast together. When Harry had finished getting dressed, they went down the spiral staircase into the common room. The moment they appeared, the people who had already finished breakfast broke into applause again. The prospect of going down into the Great Hall and facing the rest of the Gryffindors, all treating him like some sort of hero, made Marcus sick to his stomach; it was that, however, or stay in the common room and allow himself to be cornered by the Creevey brothers, who were both beckoning frantically to both him and Harry to join them. Thinking along the same mindset, Marcus and Harry walked resolutely over to the portrait hole, pushed it open, climbed out of it, and found themselves face-to-face with Hermione.

"Hello," she said, holding up a stack of toast, which she was carrying in a napkin. "I brought you two these...Want to go for a walk?"

"Good idea," said Harry.

"I could sure use it," said Marcus, rather pleased with not having to sit in the Great Hall this morning.

They went downstairs, crossed the entrance hall quickly without looking in at the Great Hall, and were soon striding across the lawn toward the lake, where the Durmstrang ship was moored, reflected blackly in the water. It was a chilly morning, and they kept moving, munching their toast, as Marcus and Harry told Hermione exactly what had happened after they had left the Gryffindor table the night before. To their immense relief, Hermione accepted their story without question.

"Well, of course I knew the two of you hadn't entered yourselves," she said they had finished telling her about their scenes in the chamber off the Hall. "The look on your faces when Dumbledore read your names! But the question is, who _did_ put them in? Because Moody's right, boys...I don't think any student could have done it...they'd never be able to fool the goblet, or get over Dumbledore's -"

"Have you seen Ron?" Harry interrupted.

Hermione hesitated.

"Erm...yes...he was at breakfast," she said.

"Does he still think we entered ourselves?" asked Marcus, already knowing the answer.

"Well...no, I don't think so...not _really_ ," said Hermione rather awkwardly.

"What's that supposed to mean, 'not _really_ '?"

"Oh, Marcus, Harry, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said despairingly. "He's jealous!"

" _Jealous_?" Marcus and Harry said increduously. "Jealous of what?" Harry continued to ask. "He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he?"

"Look," said Hermione patiently, "it's always you two who gets all the attention, and you both know it. I know it's neither your faults," she added quickly, seeing Marcus and Harry opening their mouths furiously. "I know you two don't ask for it...but - well - you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friends, and you're both really famous - he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you two, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many..."

"Great," said Harry bitterly. "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to it...People gawping at my forehead everywhere I go..."

"And my snow white hair," Marcus spat with venom in his voice.

"I'm not telling him anything," Hermione said shortly. "Tell him yourselves. It's the only way to sort this out."

"I'm not running around after him trying to make him grow up!" Harry said, so loudly that several owls in a nearby tree took flight in alarm.

"I agree," said Marcus, with a bit of anger. "If Ron won't listen to reason, to try and understand that there was no way we could've entered this wretched tournament ourselves, then he can kiss my ass!"

"Maybe he'll believe we're not enjoying ourselves once we've gotten our necks broken or -" Harry started to say.

"That's not funny," said Hermione quietly. "That's not funny at all." She looked extremely anxious. "Marcus, Harry, I've been thinking - you two know what we've got to do, don't you guys? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?"

"Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the -" Harry started to respond.

" _Write to Sirius_. You two have got to tell him what's happened. He asked the both of you to keep him posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts...It's almost as if he expected something like this to happen. I brought some parchment and a quill out with me -"

"Come off it," said Harry, looking around to check that they couldn't be overheard, but the grounds were quite deserted. "He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He'll probably come bursting right into the castle if we tell him someone's entered us in the Triwizard Tournament -"

" _He'd want you two to tell him_ ," said Hermione sternly. "He's going to find out anyway -"

"How?"

"Harry, think about it," said Marcus, a serious look on his face. "This isn't going to keep quiet. This tournament's famous, and we're famous. It really wouldn't be surprising if there was anything in the _Daily Prophet_ about us competing...We're already in half the books about You-Know-Who and The Dark Prince, you know...and Sirius would rather hear it from us, I know he would."

"Okay, okay, I'll write to him," said Harry, throwing his last piece of toast into the lake. The three of them stood and watched it floating there for a moment, before a large tentacle rose out of the water and scooped it beneath the surface. Then they returned to the castle.

"Whose owl am I going to use?" Harry said as they climbed the stairs. "He told me not to use Hedwig again."

"Well, I would let you use Archie," Marcus said, "but I'm already using him, and it wouldn't be smart for Archie to be carrying two letters."

"Ask Ron if you can borrow -" Hermione began to suggest.

"I'm not asking Ron for anything," Harry said flatly.

"Well, borrow one of the school owls, then, anyone can use them," said Hermione.

They went up to the Owlery. Hermione gave Marcus and Harry a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink. After that, Hermione started strolling around the long lines of perches, looking at all the different owls, while Marcus and Harry sat down against a wall and wrote their letters.

 _Dear Sirius,_

 _Well, I have an update for you, and...well, it's not a good one._

 _The Triwizard Tournament is happening at Hogwarts and last night, against all odds, I was picked as the actual Hogwarts champion and, if that wasn't enough, Harry was picked as the fourth champion. I'm sure he's going to tell you that. Anyway, neither one of us put our names in for contention, which is really throwing up some red flags. I was hoping to talk to you, try and see if we can make some headway on the matter. I'll be awaiting your reply on this matter. Hope that you and Buckbeak are doing okay. Do not get yourselves caught or, so help me, you will feel my wrath!_

 _-Marcus_

Marcus then sealed it up in an envelope, tied it to Archie and said, "Get there a half day before Harry's letter, and I'll give you three times the usual treats."

Upon hearing that, Marcus saw Archie fly up at speeds even he'd hardly seen. It was about a couple minutes after Archie took off that he heard Harry say rather angrily, "First Ron, then you. _This isn't my fault._ "

Marcus looked to see that Hedwig had taken to the rafters outside the reach of Harry, leaving Marcus to believe that Hedwig was mad at Harry, as well.

* * *

If Marcus had thought that matter would improve once everyone got used to the idea that him and Harry were champions, the following day showed him how mistaken he was. Him and Harry could no longer avoid the rest of the school once they were back at lessons - and it was clear that the rest of the school, just like the Gryffindors, thought that Marcus and Harry had themselves entered for the tournament. Unlike the Gryffindors, however, they did not seem impressed, at least not with Harry.

The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms with the Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold toward the whole lot of them. One Herbology lesson was enough to demonstrate this. It was plain that the Hufflepuffs felt that Marcus had robbed Cedric's chance of being in the Triwizard Tournament, and the fact that Harry was in it with him was nothing more than insult to injury. It didn't help any that Hufflepuff had rarely gotten any glory, and that Cedric was one of the few who had ever given them any, having beaten Gryffindor once at Quidditch. Ernie Macmillian and Justin Finch-Fletchley, with whom Marcus and Harry normally got along with very well, did not even try to talk to them even though they were repotting Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray - though they did laugh rather unpleasantly when one of the Bouncing Bulbs wriggled free from Harry's grip and smacked him hard in the face. Ron wasn't talking to either Marcus or Harry, as well. Hermione sat between them, making very forced conversation, but though all three answered her normally, Marcus and Harry avoided eye contact with Ron. Marcus even had a sneaking suspicion that Professor Sprout seemed distant with him and Harry - but then, he reasoned, she was Head of Hufflepuff House.

The thing that infuriated Marcus the most was that the majority of the school seemed to think that he was the right choice for Hogwarts Champion, despite the fact that he was too young for it while, as far as Harry was concerned, everyone seemed to think that Harry just couldn't let Marcus have some glory for himself.

Marcus would've been looking foward to seeing Hagrid under normal circumstances, but Care of Magical Creatures meant seeing the Slytherins too - the first time he would come face-to-face with them since becoming champion.

Predictably, Malfoy arrived at Hagrid's cabin with his familiar sneer firmly in place.

"Ah, look, boys, it's the champions," he said to Crabbe and Goyle the moment he got within earshot of Marcus and Harry. "Got your autograph books? Better get signatures now, because I doubt they're going to be around much longer...Half the Triwizard champions have died...how long d'you reckon you're going to last, boys? Ten minutes into the first task's my bet."

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed sycophantically, but Malfoy had to stop there, because Hagrid emerged from the back of his cabin balancing a teetering tower of crates, each containing a very large Blast-Ended Skrewt. To the class's horror, Hagrid proceeded to explain that the reason the skrewts had been killing one another was an excess of pent-up energy, and that the solution would be for each student of fix a leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk. The only good thing about this plan was that it distracted Malfoy completely.

"Take this thing for a walk?" he repeated in disgust, staring into one of the boxes. "And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?"

"Roun' the middle," said Hagrid, demonstrating. "Er - yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus' as an extra precaution, like. Marcus, Harry - you two come here an' help me with this big one..."

Hagrid's real intention, however, was to talk to Marcus and Harry away from the rest of the class. He waited until everyone else had set off with their skrewts, then turned to the two boys and said, very seriously, "So - the two of yeh are competin', eh? In the tournament. School champions."

"Unfortunately," Marcus said through gritted teeth.

Hagrid's beetle-black eyes looked very anxious under his wild eyebrows.

"No idea who put yeh in fer it, boys?"

"You believe we didn't do it, then?" said Harry. Marcus had to contain the rush of gratitude he felt from Hagrid's words.

"'Course I do," Hagrid grunted. "Yeh say it wasn' you two, an' I believe yeh - an' Dumbledore believes yeh, an' all."

"Wish I knew who _did_ do it," said Harry bitterly.

The three of them looked out over the lawn; the class was widely scattered now, and all in great difficulty. The skrewts were now over three feet long, and extremely powerful. No longer shell-less and colorless, they had developed a kind of thick, grayish, shiny armor. They looked like a cross between giant scorpions and elongated crabs - but still without recognizable heads or eyes. They had become immensely strong and very hard to control.

"Look like they're havin' fun, don' they?" Hagrid said happily. Marcus was led to believe that Hagrid was referring to the Blast-Ended Skrewts, because his classmates certainly weren't; every now and then, with an alarming _bang_ , one of the skrewts' ends would explode, causing it to shoot foward several yards, and more than one person was being dragged along on their stomach, trying desperately to get back on their feet.

"Ah, I don't know, boys," Hagrid sighed suddenly, looking back down at them with a worried expression on his face. "School champions...everythin' seems ter happen ter you two, doesn' it?"

Marcus didn't answer. Yes, everything did seem to happen to him and Harry...that was more or less what Hermione said as they had walked around the lake, and that was the reason, according to her, that Ron was no longer talking to them.

* * *

The next few days were some of Marcus' worst at Hogwarts. The closest he had ever come to feeling this way was the timeframe of five and seven years old. The feeling of isolation and cold-shouldered manners from almost everyone left him feeling very scared and helpless, and it didn't help that Ron wasn't talking to him right now, though he wasn't going to go out of his way to talk to Ron if Ron didn't want to.

What set Marcus on edge the most was that there were plenty of "supporters" for him - people that sounded genuine, but Marcus could tell that they were just being nice in front of his face, but were really talking bad about him behind his back. Sure, there were genuine supporters, mostly Gryffindors and perhaps a decent amount of Ravenclaws, but the vast majority of Hogwarts were very much felt seperate from Marcus. The only reprisal he had, apart from Harry and Hermione, was Cedric and Lorelei, more so Lorelei than anyone else.

Meanwhile, there was no reply from Sirius, Marcus couldn't go anywhere without feeling isolated, Professor Trewlawney started to predict Marcus' death with unusual certainty (something she never did before), and he only managed to get the hang of the Summoning Charm in Professor Flitwick's class at the smack end of it when he would usually get it halfway through.

"It's really not that difficult, Harry," Hermione tried to reassure Harry as they left Flitwick's class - while she had been making objects zoom across the room to her all lesson, as though she were some sort of weird magnet for board dusters, wastepaper baskets, and lunascopes, Harry managed to receive extra homework from Professor Flitwick, the only one to do so apart from Neville. "You just weren't concentrating properly -"

"Wonder why that was," said Harry darkly as he was watching Marcus avoid some fangirls that wanted his autograph.

"Hey, it's not like I'm asking them to come to me," said Marcus very irritably.

"Hey, don't worry about it," said Harry. "Still, there's Double Potions to look forward to this afternoon..."

Marcus knew he was being heavily sarcastic, as Potions these days were nothing short of torturous. Being shut in a dungeon for an hour and a half with Snape and the Slytherins, all of whom seemed determined to punish Marcus and Harry as much as possible for daring to become school champions, was about the most unpleasant thing Marcus had to think of in a long time. Him and Harry had already struggled through one Friday's worth, with Hermione sitting next to both of them intoning "ignore them, ignore them, ignore them" under her breath, and Marcus couldn't see how today was going to fare any better.

When the three of them arrived at Snape's dungeon after lunch, they found the Slytherins waiting outside, each and every one of them wearing a large badge on the front of his or her robes. For one crazy second, Marcus thought they were wearing S.P.E.W. badges - then he saw that they all bore the same message, in luminous red letters that burnt brightly in the dimly lit underground passage:

 **SUPPORT MARCUS WILLIAMS-  
THE **_**REAL**_ **HOGWARTS CHAMPION**

"Like them, Potter?" said Malfoy loudly as they approached. "Better the blood-traitor than the likes of you, I say! And this isn't all they do - look!"

He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed green:

 **POTTER STINKS**

The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges too, until the message _POTTER STINKS_ was shining brightly all around Harry. Marcus was starting to reach his breaking point.

"Oh _very_ funny," Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were laughing harder than anyone, "really _witty_."

Marcus saw Ron standing against the wall with Dean and Seamus. He wasn't laughing, but he wasn't sticking up for Harry either.

"Want one, Granger?" said Malfoy, holding out a badge to Hermione. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

Marcus, in the span on a second, summoned his wand, pointed it just ever so slightly to his right of Malfoy, and shouted in anger, " _Stupefy!_ "

The red jet of light soared at Malfoy, barely missing the pale boy's left cheek, and immediately people scrambled out of the way, backing down the corridor.

"The next one will hit right on target, Malfoy, so shut your mouth if you know what's good for you!" exclaimed Marcus.

He then, suddenly, felt Harry brushing against him, getting in front of him, his wand out, saying, "No, Marcus, he's mine!"

"Boys!" Hermione said warningly.

"Go on, then, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand. "Moody's not here to look after you now - do it, if you've got the guts -"

For a split second, Marcus saw the two boys looking into each other's eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted.

 _"Furnunculus!"_ Harry yelled.

 _"Densaugeo!"_ screamed Malfoy.

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles - Harry's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's was gunning straight for Marcus. Instinctively, Marcus put up his right forearm to deflect the spell and, when it did, it collided straight into Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up - Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.

"Hermione!"

Ron had hurried foward to see what was wrong with her; Marcus turned and saw Ron dragging Hermione's hand away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth - already larger than average - were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin - panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.

Horrified and feeling greatly responsible, Marcus started going towards Hermione and started to say, "Hermione, I'm -"

"Piss off, Williams!" Ron roared, extending his right hand out in front of Marcus, keeping him back. "Haven't you done enough?!"

"And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice.

Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir -"

"We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted.

"-and he hit Goyle - look -"

Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.

"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. " _Look!_ "

He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth - she was doing her best to hide them with her minds, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back.

Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.

Marcus was a quarter of a second away from physically beating the shit out of Snape when both Harry and Ron started shouting at Snape at the same time. It was lucky that they did, for their combined voices echoed so much in the stone corridor, for in the confusion, it was impossible for Snape to hear exactly what they were calling him. He got the gist, however.

"Let's see," he said, in his silkiest voice. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."

Marcus was still feeling absolutely livid. The injustice of it still made him want to beat the everliving shit out of Snape. He passed Snape quickly, walked to the back of the dungeon, and slammed his bag down onto the table. He saw Harry quickly following suit and then he saw Ron approaching. He saw Ron shaking with anger too - for a moment, it felt as though everything was back to normal between them, but then Ron turned and sat down with Dean and Seamus instead, leaving Harry and Marcus by themselves at the table. On the other side of the dungeon, Marcus could see Malfoy turning his back on Snape and pressing his badge, smirking, _POTTER STINKS_ flashed once more across the room.

Marcus sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him...he knew the Cruciatus Curse well enough...all it would take was thirty seconds, and he would have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching...

"Antidotes!" said Snape, looking around at them all, his cold black eyes glittering unpleasantly. "You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selecting someone on whom to test one..."

Marcus noticed Snape's eyes meeting Harry's, and Marcus knew that Snape was going to try and get Harry poisoned. Marcus thought that, surely, no one would notice a few seconds of him torturing Snape...

And then a knock on the dungeon door burst in on Marcus' thoughts.

It was Colin Creevey; he edged into the room, beaming at Harry and Marcus, and walked up to Snape's desk at the front of the room.

"Yes?" said Snape curtly.

"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter and Marcus Williams upstairs."

Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin, whose smile faded from his eager face.

"Potter and Williams have another hour of Potions to complete," said Snape coldly. "They will come upstairs when this class is finished."

Colin went pink.

"Sir - sir, Mr. Bagman wants them," he said nervously. "All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs..."

Marcus, wishing he could give everything he had to prevent Colin saying those last few words, facepalmed himself, effectively hiding his increasingly reddening face from the rest of the class.

"Very well, very well," Snape snapped. "Potter, Williams, leave your things here. I want you two back down here later to test your antidotes."

"Please, sir - they've got to take their things with them," squeaked Colin. "All the champions -

"Very _well_!" said Snape. "Potter, Williams - take your bags and get out of my sight!"

Marcus and Harry swung their bags over their shoulders, got up, and headed for the door. As they walked through the Slytherin desks, _POTTER STINKS_ flashed at Harry from every direction.

"It's amazing, isn't it, Marcus, Harry?" said Colin, staring to speak the moment Harry had closed the dungeon door behind him. "Isn't it, though? You two being champions?"

"Yeah, what are the odds?" Marcus deadpanned as they set off toward the steps into the entrance hall.

"What do they want photos for, Colin?" asked Harry.

"The _Daily Prophet_ , I think!"

"Great," said Harry dully, looking at Marcus. "Exactly what we need."

"Ugh, more publicity," said Marcus. "Can this day get any worse?"

"Good luck, guys!" said Colin when they had reached the right room. Marcus knocked on the door and the two boys entered.

They were in a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch Marcus had never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes.

Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Fleur and Madame Maxime were in conversation. Fleur looked a good deal happier than the last time Marcus saw her; she kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye.

Bagman suddenly spotted Marcus and Harry, got up quickly, and bounced forward.

"Ah, here they are! Champions number three and four! In you come, boys, in you come...nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment -"

"Wand weighing?" Harry repeated nervously.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Bagman. "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta for the _Daily Prophet..._ "

"Maybe not _that_ small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on Marcus and Harry.

Upon hearing the name to the witch in magenta, Marcus thought, _"Oh, crap, you've got to be kidding me!"_

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocidile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Marcus and Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman, but still gazing at the boys. "The youngest champions, you know...to add a bit of color?"

"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is - if Marcus and Harry have no objections?"

"Actually -" Marcus began.

"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, and in a second, her scarlet-taloned fingers had Harry's upper arm in what looked to be a surprisingly strong grip, and she was steering him out of the room again, but not before she turned back to look at Marcus and said, "Don't go anywhere now, young Marcus, because you're next."

She gave a wink at him, which sent a shiver up his spine, before she closed the door behind her.

From behind him, he heard Fleur say, "Hello again, Mar-kees!"

He looked to see Fleur standing not two feet behind him, with a great smile on her face, which seemed to somehow make his stomach float like butterflies.

"Hello, Fleur," said Marcus, smirking greatly.

They then spent the next few minutes talking and getting to know each other better before Dumbledore came into the room.

"I would like for the champions to please take their seats as we begin the wand weighing ceremony," said Dumbledore, who looked around and, upon not seeing Harry said, "Where is Mr. Potter?"

"Harry's most likely in that broom closet with Rita Skeeter," said Marcus, pointing outside the room.

"Thank you, Marcus," said Dumbledore with a smile and a twinkle to his eye. "If you would please."

Gesturing to the seat, Marcus ensured that he sat on one end, leaving room for Harry to sit next to him on top of making sure he didn't sit next to Krum, who was giving him another death stare.

In no time at all, Marcus saw Harry hurrying into the room and into the seat that Marcus saved for him. After he took his seat, Marcus looked up at the velvet-covered table, where four of the five judges were now sitting - Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman. Rita Skeeter settled herself down in a corner; Marcus saw her slip some parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her knee, suck the end of what Marcus recognized as a Quick-Quotes Quill, and place it on the parchment.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Marcus looked around and was greatly surprised to find an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. Marcus had only met Mr. Ollivander once before, and that was when he was with Harry, who bought his wand from him over three years ago in Diagon Alley.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmmm..." he said.

He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches...inflexible...rosewood...and containing...dear me..."

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

Marcus looked at her with shock. Fleur was one-quarter veela?! He wondered to himself how that tidbit of information hadn't come up once in any of their conversations.

"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course, I find it makes for rather tempermental wands...however, to each his own, and if this suits you..."

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, _"Avis!"_

The rosewood wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Mr. Ollivander, who moved to Krum and said, "Mr. Krum, if you please."

Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Hmm," said Mr. Ollivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I...however..."

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

"Yes...hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded.

Marcus then noticed Harry serritipiously rubbing his wand, no doubt to try and give a last minute shine job. However, he ended up shooting out several gold sparks out of the end of it, earning a very patronizing look from Fleur, which made Harry cease and desist.

"Rather thicker than one usually sees," stated Mr. Ollivander. "Quite rigid...ten and a quarter inches..."

He then caused a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Krum's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, "Mr. Potter, if you would."

Harry then got to his feet, walked past Krum to Mr. Ollivander, and handed over his wand.

"Aaaaah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."

Marcus felt a little nervous, as his turn was soon coming. He remembered having been given a promise by Mr. Ollivander himself, and today, he was going to try and see if he could make good on that promise.

Mr. Ollivander spend much longer examining Harry's wand than the previous two. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.

"Which leaves," said Mr. Ollivander, "Young Mr. Williams."

Marcus summoned his wand before he got up, walked towards Mr. Ollivander, stopping himself two feet in front of the old wizard, and gave him his wand.

"Ah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander with a bit of glee in his voice. "I have not forgotten this wand since it appeared in my shop just over three years ago. How I longed to see it once again, to hold it once more."

"Mr. Ollivander," said Marcus softly, "You said that, when I was older, you would tell me more about my wand."

"That I did," said Mr. Ollivander, who suddenly looked sad. "And I was hoping to wait a bit longer before I told you, but now seems as good as time as any."

He spent what felt like forever, examining every inch of his wand, eagerly awaiting for him to speak.

Finally, Mr. Ollivander said in a soft voice, "Twelve inches...stalwart, yet absurdly stubborn...blood-stained American Redwood...threstral hair..."

He then looked up just enough to look Marcus in the eyes and said, in that same soft voice, "This is the Blood Wand, Marcus Williams."

Marcus immediately felt the air around him become intense. He glanced around the room to find everyone, except for Harry, looking at him with shock and awe.

Marcus then looked back at Mr. Ollivander, saying, "The Blood Wand?"

"This wand is significant in that it is one of the few wands in all of the Wizarding World that has threstral hair as the core, young Mr. Williams," Mr. Ollivander explained. "Now, this particular wand has a rather violent past that I'm afraid you're not ready to hear. However, I will tell you that American Redwood is not used to make wands anymore because the wood made wands infamous for never choosing a witch or wizard unless every condition of theirs was met. If they did choose a witch or wizard, they will remain forever loyal to that person, making them unable to disarm and leaving no one else able to cast the wand."

Mr. Ollivander then gave the wand back to Marcus, took a few steps back, and said, "Now, Mr. Williams, perhaps you could cast a spell, to ensure that it is in working order."

Marcus, gripping his wand, pointed to the ceiling and said, _"Orchideous!"_

The flowers that burst forth from Marcus' wand flew into the air and Marcus then said, _"Colligat!"_

The flowers then proceeded to come to Marcus' free arm, gathering themselves in the likeness of a bouquet.

Lastly, Marcus said, _"Conficio!"_

The bouquet was was then wrapped with a thin sheet of floral paper, to which Marcus walked over to Fleur, handed her the bouquet and said in a shy voice, "Um, for you, Ms. Delacour."

A smile akin to shining diamonds shone on her face, blushing as she took the bouquet.

Feeling himself blush, Marcus quickly turned to Mr. Ollivander, who announced that Marcus' wand was in perfect working order.

"Thank you all," said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges' table. "You may go back to your lesson now - or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end -"

Feeling that at last something had gone right today, Marcus started making his way to the door, but hadn't gone a few paces when the man with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.

"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" cried Bagman excitedly. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

"Er - yes, let's do those first," said Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Marcus and Harry again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."

The photographs took a long time, much to Marcus' great displeasure. Madame Maxime cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn't stand far enough back to get her into the frame; eventually she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl; Krum, who Marcus thought for sure would be used to this sort of thing, skulked, half-hidden, at the back of the group. The photographer seemed keenest to get Fleur at the front, but Rita Skeeter kept hurrying foward and dragging Marcus and Harry into greater prominence. Then she insisted on separate shots of all the champions. At last, they were free to go.

Marcus and Harry went down to dinner together. Hermione wasn't there - they supposed she was still in the hospital wing having her teeth fixed. They ate alone at the end of the table, then returned to Gryffindor Tower, with Marcus thinking about tonight's training session with Lorelei and Cedric. Up in the dormitory, they came across Ron.

"You two have owls," said Ron brusquely the moment they walked in. He was pointing at their respective pillows. Archie was waiting on Marcus' pillow while the school barn owl was waiting on Harry's.

"Oh - right," said Harry.

"And we've got to do our detentions tomorrow night, Harry," stated Ron. "Snape's dungeon."

He then turned to Marcus and said in a rather brazen manner, "Sorry for snapping at you in the dungeons. That's the only thing I'm apologizing for."

He then walked straight out of the room, not looking at either Marcus or Harry. For a moment, Marcus considered going after him - he wasn't sure whether to talk to him or hit him, both seemed quite appealing - but the lure of Sirius's answer was too strong. Marcus strode over to Archie, took the letter off his leg, and unrolled it.

 _Marcus -_

 _I can't say everything I would like to in a letter, it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted - we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o'clock in the morning of the 21st of November?_

 _I know that you can look after yourself, and while you're around Dumbledore and Moody I don't think anyone will be able to hurt you or Harry. However, whoever put your name in for the tournament seems to be trying real hard, especially considering how risky it was to do it in the first place._

 _Be on the watch, Marcus. I still want to hear from you about anything that you might consider unusual. Let me know about the 21st of November as quickly as you can._

 _-Sirius_

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review on this story, as it'll help me refine my skills as a writer. Or, if you have any questions for me, don't hesitate to leave me a PM and, I promise, I'll answer them to the best of my ability. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	19. (19) That Sinking Feeling

**Hello, one and all, and welcome to the next chapter of HP: Path of Trials! So, um...a lot has happened...almost too much...ugh. It's been FOREVER since the last chapter went up, and I hope to be back on track with updates in the future. However, we have one now and that's what matters! Also...**

 **Disclaimer: I have no rights on HP save for the OC's in this series.**

 **With that, here's...**

Chapter 19: That Sinking Feeling

 **Enjoy, everyone!**

Marcus found himself surrounded in darkness. No scenery, no lights, no nothing.

"Hello?" asked Marcus in the darkness. "Is anyone there?"

He then heard rattling...and clinking. It sounded vaugely like chains being yanked...

He then turned around and, suddenly, he wasn't alone.

He found himself face-to-face with the same dragon he saw in his dreams over the summer, except he was bounded by his ankles and wrists, hoisted in the air with what looked to be great heavy chains, going in all directions...

The dragon looked at Marcus and said in a deep voice, _"I know you can understand me. You must've seen it already, as I have."_

Marcus then saw, out of nowhere, a giant black dog, somehow enfused in the shadows with eyes of pure gold and razor teeth looking sharper than swords, snarling in their direction.

 _"If you wish to survive, release me from my bonds. Only then will I be able to save you."_

Marcus knew that the dragon wasn't lying, not if what he was facing was that monstrosity, the likes of which sent massive shivers up his spine. However, there had to be a reason why the dragon was chained up in such a way. Perhaps, whoever chained the dragon this way, felt that the dragon was not meant to be free...

Both Marcus and the dragon heard the footsteps of the giant, black dog coming their way and the dragon said, _"Hurry! Time is running out!"_

Marcus, determined, rushed to the dragon, dodging all the chains surrounding the dragon, some of the chains trying to prevent him from reaching his destination.

However, he managed to make it and asked, "How in the world do I break these chains?!"

 _"If you pull on them, and if you will them to break, then they will."_

Marcus, having nothing to lose, concentrated with all of his might, both physically and mentally, to break the chains strapped to the dragon's left ankle. Somehow, they snapped like they were made out of paper.

He then snapped the chains on the dragon's right ankle and right wrist just as easily, but when he tried to snap the chain situated on the left wrist, nothing he did would snap the chain.

 _"Hurry! The beast is almost upon us!"_ the dragon told Marcus.

"I'm trying!" said Marcus, who kept yanking and yanking on the chain, but to no avail.

Then, a familiar set of hands grabbed the chain Marcus was yanking on and a voice shouted out, "Come on, Marcus! We can do it together!"

He looked behind him to see Lorelei Flamel, who looked concentrated on the task at hand. He felt immensly grateful that she was helping him with this task.

Before they gave it a joint attempt, however, the giant, black dog bounded upon them, snarling with its shiny, white pointy teeth that looked sharper than swords. With one quick swipe, the dog grabbed Lorelei by the mouth, tossed her into the air, and Lorelei started to say, "Marcus, HEL-" before being gulped down mercilessly.

" _NO!"_ roared both Marcus and the dragon.

Then, Marcus watched helplessly as the dog with eyes of pure gold came bearing upon him, the maw of the giant dog coming ever so closer before he found himself tumbling down the gullet of the beast...

* * *

Marcus sat straight up, drenched in cold sweat, unable to say anything, out loud or in his head. He was too appalled by what he just dreamt. Trying to do his best to shake it off, he wiped his sweat off with a towel, changed himself into workout clothes, and made his way to the Room of Requirement to do his morning workout.

When he arrived, he saw Lorelei, who looked at him with that amazing smile and said, "Good morning, Marcus."

Her face was then switched to one of worry as she approached Marcus and said, "Marcus, are you okay? You're white as a ghost!"

He found himself, unexplicably, embracing Lorelei in a hug and said, "Lorelei, no matter what, I'll keep you safe."

He let go of her, who was heavily blushing and flustered, "Um, well, thank you, Marcus."

She then darted from side to side before saying quickly, "Ah, here we go! Our first exercise in our workout schedule this morning! Let's get to it, huh?"

Marcus, who smiled, said, "Yeah, let's get to it!"

The prospect of talking to Sirius one on one was all that kept Marcus level-headed over the next two weeks, the only bright spot on a horizon that had never looked darker. The shock of finding himself school champion had finally worn off, and the fear of what was facing him had started to sink in. The first task was drawing steadily nearer; Marcus couldn't explain how he felt this, but somehow he knew that the first task was going to be his greatest challenge, like a impregnable wall, barring his path of progress. Up to this point, his nerves were at their worst; not even the last Quidditch match against Slytherin, which determined who won the Quidditch Cup, worked his nerves like this prospect did. It was almost as if this was actually going to be a matter of life and death...

He hated to admit it, but he wasn't exactly sure how Sirius was going to give him any sound advice in regards to the first task, not when the task itself was shrouded in mystery and had to be done in front of hundreds of magic folk, but knowing he was going to at least be able to talk to Sirius was something to hold on to.

Marcus wrote back immediately, telling him that he would be there at the common room on the night in question, and himself and Lorelei spent a good chunk of their non-training time going over plans for forcing any stragglers out of the common room the night of the 21st. If worst came to worst, they decided to drop a bag of Dungbombs, but they hoped against everything that it wouldn't get to that point - Filch would skin them alive.

All the while, Marcus continued to struggle with resuming any normalcy in his day-to-day life in Hogwarts, though he thanked his lucky stars that he wasn't Harry, for Rita Skeeter had published her piece about the Triwizard Tournament, and it had turned out to be not so much a report on the tournament as it was more of a highly colored life story of Harry, though if Marcus had to guess, he would've fallen victim to it if that Skeeter woman had managed to get to him, too. Much of the front page had been given over to a picture of Harry; the article (continuing on pages two, six, and seven) had been all about Harry, the names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions (misspelled) had been squashed into the last line of the article, and (much to Marcus' great shock) his name wasn't even mentioned.

The article had appeared ten days ago, and Marcus still felt greatly sorry for his best friend every time he thought about it. From the looks of the article, Rita Skeeter had wrote a lot of things he knew Harry would never say in his life, much less in that broom cupboard.

I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now... Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it...I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me...

Somehow, Rita Skeeter had gone to great lengths to get as much info on Harry as she could, as she had interviewed other people, as well.

Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school.

From the moment the article had appeared, Marcus had to watch Harry endure people - Slytherins, mainly - quoting it at him as they passed and making sneering comments.

"Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?"

"Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this a school you and Longbottom have set up together?"

"Hey - Harry!"

"Yeah, that's right!" Marcus heard Harry shouting suddenly as Harry wheeled around in the corridor, who looked like he reached his breaking point. "I've just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I'm just off to do a bit more..."

"No - it was just - you dropped your quill."

Marcus facepalmed when he realized that it was Cho Chang who was trying to get Harry's attention.

"Oh - right - sorry," Harry muttered, taking the quill back.

"Er...good luck on Tuesday," she said. "I really hope you do well...both of you," she added as a nod to Marcus.

Marcus and Harry started walking again when Harry looked at Marcus and said, "How is it that I'm getting all the unwanted press when your name's not even mentioned in the _Daily Prophet_?"

"I wish I could tell you, Harry," said Marcus truthfully. "I'm just as confused as you are. And remember, Rita Skeeter looked just as eager to get me as she did to you."

Hermione had come in for her fair share of unpleasantness too, but she hadn't yet started yelling at innocent bystanders; in fact, Marcus was severely impressed at the way she was handling the situation.

 _"Stunningly pretty? Her?"_ Pansy Parkinson had shrieked the first time she had come face-to-face with Hermione after Rita's article had appeared. "What was she judging against - a chipmunk?"

"Ignore it," Hermione said in a dignified voice, holding her head in the air and stalking past the sniggering Slytherin girls as though she couldn't hear them. "Just ignore it, Harry."

But Marcus knew that was a lot easier said than done. On the night of Harry's and Ron's joint detentions, Marcus had just gotten back from his evening workout and waited up to see if Harry and Ron had patched things up. However, it was more wishful thinking than anything else, as that was the same day that Rita's article had appeared and, when Marcus saw the look on Ron's face as he was walking straight past him, that Ron firmly believed that Harry was really enjoying all of this attention.

Hermione was furious with the three of them; she went from one to the other, trying to force Marcus and Harry into talking with Ron, but Marcus wasn't having any of it. He had enough on his plate as it was, and he wasn't going to waste time trying to convince a stubborn fool the error of his ways.

"We didn't start this, Hermione," Harry said stubbornly.

"Yes, it's not like we even asked for this to happen," said Marcus with impatience. "He's bringing it all upon himself."

"You both miss him!" Hermione said impatiently. "And I _know_ he misses you two -"

 _"Miss him?"_ Harry said.

"Yeah, definitely not," said Marcus flatly.

But this was a downright lie. Marcus liked Hermione very much as a friend, but she just wasn't the same as Ron. As much as he enjoyed the occassional library splurge, it wasn't nearly as fun going all the time, especially when Hermione was Marcus' best friend. Despite mastering it himself and trying to give Harry pointers, he was shocked to see that Harry still hadn't mastered Summoning Charms. It was as if Harry had devloped a sort of anti-Harry barrier about them, and Hermione insisted that learning the theory would help. They, as a result, spent a lot of time poring over books during their lunchtimes.

Viktor Krum was in the library an awful lot too, leaving Marcus wondering if he was actually studying or trying to find information to get him through the first task. Hermione often complained about Krum being there - not that he ever bothered them - but because groups of giggling girls often turned up to spy on him from behind bookshelves, and Hermione found the noise distracting.

"He's not even good-looking!" she muttered angrily, glaring at Krum's sharp profile. "They only like him because he's famous! They wouldn't look twice at him if he couldn't do that Wonky-Faint thing -"

"Wronski Feint," Marcus and Harry said through gritted teeth. Quite apart from liking to get Quidditch terms correct, it caused Marcus another pang to imagine Ron's expression if he could have heard Hermione talking about Wonky-Faints.

* * *

As much as Marcus really wanted to slow down time, to try and squeeze enough training to feel even remotely confident about the first task, time somehow developed a dislodging habit of speeding up. The days until the first task seemed to slip through Marcus' fingers, almost as if someone rigged the clocks to work at double speed. Consequently, despite making as much use of his free time as he could, Marcus felt his level-headed attitude fleeing away, replaced with panic and worry the likes of which even he had hardly knew about.

True to his word, Marcus and Lorelei were waiting by the common room fireplace at the time and date of Sirius' letter.

"You think he got held up?" asked Lorelei, looking at the clock.

"It's still five minutes before he's supposed to appear," said Marcus. "I'll give him a bit more time."

"Well, I'll be heading off to bed, in this case," said Lorelei. "I'll see you at the morning workout."

As Lorelei went up the stairs to her dormitory, Marcus sighed in relief. His luck seemed to hold for the most part, as everyone else cleared out of the common room a half-hour before Sirius was supposed to show, which was a good sign. He didn't feel like trying to explain away the appearance of a wanted convict's head in the fireplace.

Marcus suddenly heard a "psst!" coming from the fireplace. He looked at it and couldn't help but smile.

Sirirus's head was sitting in the fire. He looked around for a second, ensuring that no one suddenly dropped in before looking back at the fireplace and saying, "Hey, Sirius. How are you doing?"

From the last time he saw him, riding away on Buckbeak in the night sky, he looked considerably different. Before, his face had been gaunt and sunken, which was surrounded by a good amount of long, black, matted hair - but his hair was short and clean now and his face was fuller, giving him a much more youthful look, similar to what he looked like at Harry's parent's wedding.

"Never mind me, how are you?" he asked in a serious tone.

"Well -" Marcus said before launching into a detailed recounting of everything that had happened since his return to Hogwarts.

"...and now I'm faced with a task that I have absolutely no idea what it entails or what I'm supposed to do, and it's freaking me out," he finished in a voice most unlike his.

Sirius, eyes full of concern, looked at him with a look that had not lost the aspect that Azkaban gave him - that deadened, haunted look. He had not spoken up once during Marcus' lengthy retelling, letting him get it all out in the open before saying, "The First Task, we'll get to in a moment. I don't have much time here...I had to break into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

"What sort of things?" Marcus asked, his interest piqued.

"Karkaroff," said Sirius. "Marcus, he was a Death Eater."

"A Death Eater?" he repeated. "This is the first time I'm hearing about this. How come I didn't hear about this until now?"

"Well, he was caught," explained Sirius. "He was in Azkaban with me for a time, but was eventually released. I'd bet on anything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year - to keep an eye on him. Your father helped Moody catch Karkaroff. They put him into Azkaban in the first place."

"Well, that explains the tension from that night," mused Marcus. "Let me guess: The Ministry released Karkaroff because he squealed?"

"Precisely," Sirius stated. "He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then he named names...he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place...I can tell you this much, he's not very popular in there."

"Well, cowards aren't very popular to begin with unless they're attached to wealth," Marcus said.

"It seems that, ever since he got out, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every students who passes through that school of his. At least, that's from what I can tell."

"I believe it. A school that put emphasis on learning the actual art, it's right up his alley. Still -"

"What is it?"

"It's just that I'm not entirely sure he put either my name or Harry's in the goblet. He was furious about that whole situation and tried his best to stop us from competing."

"Well, we know he can act whatever suits his situation the best due to having convinced the Ministry to set him free," said Sirius. "Now, Marcus, I've been keeping an eye on the _Daily Prophet_ -"

"Yeah, who hasn't?" Marcus grumbled.

"- and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," Sirius added hastily, seeing Marcus about to speak up, "but I don't think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he can't still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had."

"Well, it's possible my dad's doing one of his secret investigations," said Marcus. "I guarantee he smells foul play, especially after the incident. That being said, _someone_ is trying to get Harry and I killed? Could it be -?"

Marcus, looking away in order to think, now looked back at Sirius, who seemed to be hesitant.

"I've been hearing some very strange things," he said slowly. "The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn't they? Someone set off the Dark then - did you hear about that Ministry of Magic witch who's gone missing?"

"Bertha Jorkins?"

"Exactly...she disappeared in Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumored to be last... and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?"

"Yeah, but...how likely would it be that she'd just walk straight into Voldemort?"

"Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins," said Sirius grimly. "She was at Hogwarts when I was, a few years above your dad and me. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It's not a good combination, Marcus. I'd say she'd be very easy to lure into a trap."

"Hmmm...so, if that's the case, then Voldemort knew about the tournament. But, Karkaroff being here because of him?"

"I don't know," said Sirius slowly. "I just don't know...Karkaroff doesn't strike me as the type who'd go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name and Harry's in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can't help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you both and make it look like an accident."

"But, I'm not even on Voldemort's radar, Harry is!" Marcus exclaimed. "How did I get involved?!"

"Well -"

Noticing the hesitation from his godfather, Marcus said, "Out with it."

"There have been rumors that The Royal Army is reforming."

"The Royal Army?"

"It's The Dark Prince's underlings," Sirius stated. "Same concept as Voldemort's Death Eaters, only more mysterious and more organized."

"So, if this 'Royal Army' is involved, then -"

"It would make sense why your name came out of the hat," said Sirius grimly. "They must be hoping to get into The Dark Prince's good graces by getting you killed."

"Well, they may just succeed, depending on what the First Task involves," stated Marcus.

"I'd say there's nothing to worry about," stated Sirius.

"Really?"

"Marcus, you are always prepared to face whatever comes your way," stated Sirius. "Reminds me of your dad back when we were in school. There wasn't a single person who got the one-up on Michael, not even his Marauder friends. Just keep doing what you've been doing, and you'll come out of this just fine."

"Yeah...I guess you're right."

His head then turned suddenly and he said, "Crap, it sounds like someone's here. Take care of yourself and keep a watchful eye out!"

His head then disappeared from the fire, leaving Marcus with a lot to think about...

* * *

The Saturday morning before the first task, Lorelei, Marcus, and Cedric were getting a last workout in before going down to Hogsmeade, a village that all third year students and above at Hogwarts were permitted to go to, provided they were given permission to do so by a parent or guardian.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" said Marcus as he slammed his right armguard into the nearest wall.

"Marcus, calm down!" Cedric said in a stern voice. "You're not going to do yourself any good, stressing yourself out like this!"

"Cedric's right, Marcus," said Lorelei, her voice full of concern. "You've made so much progress already since you got sucked into this tournament, way more than this time last year!"

"I'm just concerned about what I'm going to be going up against in the first task, that's all!" said Marcus, whose face was full of worry. "I mean, all the other life-threating things I've done had at least some knowledge of what I was facing! This...this freaks me out!"

"All right, here's what we'll do, Marcus," said Lorelei, who was looking quite alarmed by Marcus' behavior. "Since we just finished, we'll shower up, change clothes, and go down to Hogsmeade together. We'll go wherever you want to go, just as long as you calm down."

Marcus took deep breaths for at least a minute just to calm himself down before saying, "All right. But we're putting Disillusionment Charms on ourselves, and we're not stopping for anyone or anything until we get to the designated spot."

"I wish I could join you guys," said Cedric, "but I already said I would join my other friends in Hogsmeade."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Cedric," said Marcus. "Go, and have a good time."

After Cedric said good-bye to the two of them and departed the Room of Requirement, Lorelei and Marcus proceeded to go back to Gryffindor Tower to shower and change clothes so that they could meet up in the common room, which happen to just empty out. Not wanting to deal with any potential eavesdroppers, they quickly cast the Disillusionment Charms on themselves and left for Hogsmeade.

True to his word, Marcus and Lorelei did not stop until they made it through the One-Eyed Witch, through that passageway, into Honeydukes, out into Hogsmeade, and made their way to the Shrieking Shack.

"Um, Marcus, we really shouldn't go in here," said Lorelei. "This is the most haunted building in all of Britain."

"No, it's not," said Marcus, who made sure the coast was clear before he slipped through a broken window. "My Uncle Remus used this building as a getaway whenever he was forced to transform into a werewolf. It's actually quite safe."

As soon as the two of them made it inside the Shrieking Shack, Marcus and Lorelei lifted the Disillusionment Charms and took a seat in what Marcus surmised to be the living room sofa.

"Wait, this is the spot that you wanted to go to?" asked Lorelei.

"Yes," said Marcus. "This way, we're guaranteed not to be disturbed or run into anybody. It'll give me a chance to take a step back and regain myself."

"I truly can't wait until this whole tournament is over," said Lorelei, who made herself comfortable on the sofa. "So far, it's been nothing but bad news."

"In other words, another typical Hogwarts year," Marcus said with grimace. He sighed before continuing, "It's just as Hagrid said. It all seems to happen to Harry and I. I mean, let's look at the past years of going to Hogwarts. The first year was that Sorcerer's Stone business, then Tom Riddle and his terrifying Basilisk the second year, and last year was the dementors and trying to help Sirius get his freedom, with no success, I might add."

"And now you and Harry are forced to compete in a tournament, the same tournament you wanted no part of," stated Lorelei. "At this rate, we'll be lucky to make it to seventeen."

"Well, I'll be lucky, anyway," said Marcus in a hollow sort of voice.

"No, I do mean we," said Lorelei with a straight face, although Marcus saw a bit of blushing on her face. "No matter what, Marcus, I'm here for you."

She proceeded to grab Marcus' right hand with her left and said, "Marcus, no matter what dangers you find yourself facing, I will never let you face them alone."

Marcus looked into her emerald eyes, which shone with a fierce determination akin to his own, and found himself blushing deeply as he said, "Thank you, Lorelei. You have no idea how much that means to me."

Lorelei, giving him a smile, released his hand and said, "Now, let's look at the first task from a logical standpoint. What can we rule out for sure?"

Marcus took a breath and said, "Well, the Unforgivable Curses for sure. Obviously, they can't be used without being tossed in Azkaban as a consequence. Any creatures that magic folk can't find even on occasion can be ruled out, I suppose. Other than that, anything is possible."

"Well, I was thinking that the champions won't be deliberately put in death's way," stated Lorelei. "It wouldn't make for a good event if all the champions died right away."

"Gee, way to put that in good perspective," said Marcus.

"All I'm saying, Marcus, is that I have a feeling that the first task will be an obstacle of some sort or maybe getting your hands on something," stated Lorelei. "Nothing where the champions will have to put their life on the line to accomplish the task."

"Hmm, there's some merit with that line of theory," said Marcus. "Unfortunately, there's nothing to back it up, so that leaves us back to square one."

They continued to speculate about the first task until it was time to return to Hogwarts.

They arrived on the seventh floor in the same fashion as they did leaving for Hogsmeade, not being spotted by anyone and only lifted their Disillusionment Charms when the coast was clear. They hadn't taken a few steps into the Gryffindor common room when the two of them came face-to-face with Harry.

"Harry," said Marcus, rather surprised to see him so suddenly. "What's up?"

Harry looked to ensure no one was listening before he leaned towards Marcus and whispered, "Hagrid wants us down at his cabin at midnight. Says he has something to show us."

Marcus frowned. "I have my workout session at that time. Is it that important?"

Harry shrugged and said, "Hagrid seemed to think it was. He told me to bring my Invisibility Cloak and for you to use the Disillusionment Charm."

Marcus, however eager he was to find out what Hagrid had in store for him, said, "Sorry, Harry, I can't. I haven't been able to move my night workout session to any other time, and that's something I can't compromise, not now."

"I understand," whispered Harry.

"And don't forget about the fireside chat," whispered Marcus. "You'll be cutting it pretty close by going down there tonight."

"That's what Hermione said," whispered Harry. "I'll just have to take the chance."

Not wanting to raise any suspicions within the common room, the three of them went their seperate ways.

* * *

Later that night, Marcus, Lorelei, and Cedric were just wrapping things up with their workout/self-training when it happened.

His sense suddenly went out of whack, almost if by force, and amplified beyond anything Marcus felt at this point. His insides felt as if they were taking a free-fall dive off the tallest mountain, bringing him to the point of nausea.

"Marcus!" Lorelei almost shrieked when she saw that Marcus fell to his knees. "What happened?!"

Marcus looked at the entrance door, unable to explain this feeling of doom...

* * *

 **11:30 pm**

Harry, having pretended to go up to bed early, pulled the Invisibility Cloak back over himself and crept back downstairs through the common room. Quite a few people were still in there. The Creevey brothers had managed to get hold of a stack of _Support Marcus Williams!_ badges and were trying to bewitch them to make them say _Support Harry Potter!_ instead. So far, however, all they had managed to do was get the badges stuck on _POTTER STINKS._ Harry crept past them to the portrait hole and waited for a minute or so, keeping an eye on his watch. Then Hermione opened the Fat Lady for him from outside as they had planned. He slipped past her with a whispered "Thanks!" and set off through the castle.

The grounds were very dark. Harry walked down the lawn toward the lights shining in Hagrid's cabin. The inside of the enormous Beauxbatons carriage was also lit up; Harry could hear Madame Maxime talking inside it as he knocked on Hagrid's front door.

"You there, Harry?" Hagrid whispered, opening the door and looking around.

"Yeah," said Harry, slipping inside the cabin and pulling the cloak down off his head. "What's up?"

"Got summat ter show yeh," said Hagrid. "Where's Marcus?"

"Couldn't make it," said Harry.

"Real shame, that," said Hagrid. "He would've enjoyed this."

There ws an air of enormous excitement about Hagrid. He was wearing a flower that resembled an oversized artichoke in his buttonhole. It lookd as though he had abandoned the use of axle grease, but he had certainly attempted to comb his hair - Harry could see the comb's broken teeth tanlged in it.

"What're you showing me?" Harry said warily, wondering if the skrewts had laid eggs, or Hagrid had managed to buy another giant three-headed dog off a stranger in a pub.

"Come with me, keep quiet, an' keep yourself covered with that cloak," said Hagrid. "We won' take Fang, he won' like it..."

"Listen, Hagrid, I can't stay long...I've got to be back up at the castle by one o'clock -"

But Hagrid wasn't listening; he was opening the cabin door and striding off into the night. Harry hurried to follow and found, to his great surprise, that Hagrid was leading him to the Beauxbatons carriage.

"Hagrid, what - ?"

"Shhh!" said Hagrid, and he knocked three times on the door bearing the crossed golden wands.

Madame Maxime opened it. She was wearing a silk shawl wrapped around her massive shoulders. She smiled when she saw Hagrid.

"Ah, 'Agrid...is it time?"

"Bong-sewer," said Hagrid, beaming at her, and holding out a hand to help her down the golden steps.

Madame Maxime closed the door behind her, Hagrid offered her his arm, and they set off around the edge of the paddock containing Madame Maxime's giant winged horses, with Harry, totally bewildered, running to keep up with them. Had Hagrid wanted to show him Madame Maxime? He could see her any old time he wanted...she wasn't exactly hard to miss...

But it seemed that Madame Maxime was in for the same treat as Harry, because after a while she said playfully, "Wair is it you are taking me, 'Agrid?"

"Yeh'll enjoy this," said Hagrid gruffly, "worth seein', trust me. On'y - don' go tellin' anyone I showed yeh, right? Yeh're not s'posed ter know."

"Of course not," said Madame Maxime, fluttering her long black eyelashes.

And still they walked, Harry getting more and more irritated as he jogged along in their wake, checking his watch every now and then. Hagrid had some harebrained scheme in hand, which might make him miss Sirius. If they didn't get there soon, he was going to turn around, go straight back to the castle, and leaved Hagrid to enjoy his moonlit stroll with Madame Maxime...

But then - when they had walked so far around the perimeter of the forest that the castle and the lake were out of sight - Harry heard something. Men were shouting up ahead...then came a deafening, earsplitting roar...

Hagrid led Madame Maxime around a clump of trees and came to a halt. Harry hurried up alongside them - for a split second, he thought he was seeing bonfires, and men darting around them - and then his mouth fell open.

 _Dragons._

Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearinng onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting - torrents of fire were shooting into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground; a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping with all its might; a red one with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air; and a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others, which was nearest to them.

At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, were attempting to control them, pulling on the chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs. Mesmerized, Harry looked up, high above him, and saw the eyes of the black dragon, with vertical pupils like a cat's, bulging with either fear or rage, he couldn't tell which...It was making a horrible noise, a yowling, screeching scream...

"Keep back there, Hagrid!" yelled a wizard near the fence, straining on the chain he was holding. "They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!"

"Is'n' it beautiful?" said Hagrid softly.

"It's no good!" yelled another wizard. "Stunning Spells, on the count of three!"

Harry saw each of the dragon keepers pull out his wand.

 _"Stupefy!"_ they shouted in unison, and the Stunning Spells shot into the darkness like fiery rockets, bursting in showers of stars on the dragons' scaly hides -

Harry watched the dragon nearest to them teeter dangerously on its back legs; its jaws stretched wide in a silent howl; its nostrils were suddenly devoid of flame, though still smoking - then, very slowly, it fell. Several tons of sinewy, scaly-black dragon hit the ground with a thud that Harry could have sworn made the trees behind him quake.

The dragon keepers lowered their wands and walked forward to their fallen charges, each of which was the size of a small hill. They hurried to tighten the chains and fasten them securely to iron pegs, which they forced deep into the ground with their wands.

"Wan' a closer look?" Hagrid asked Madame Maxime excitedly. The pair of them moved right up to the fence, and Harry followed. The wizard who had warned Hagrid not to come any closer turned, and Harry realized who it was: Charlie Weasley.

"All right, Hagrid?" he panted, coming over to talk. "They should be okay now - we put them out with a Sleeping Draught on the way here, thought it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and the quiet - but, like you saw, they weren't happy, not happy at all -"

"What breeds you got here, Charlie?" said Hagrid, gazing at the closest dragon, the black one, with something close of a reverence. Its eyes were still just open. Harry could see a strip of gleaming yellow beneath its wrinkled black eyelid.

"This is a Hungarian Horntail," said Charlie. "There's a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one - a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-gray - and a Chinese Fireball, that's the red."

Charlie looked around; Madame Maxime was strolling away around the edge of the enclosure, gazing at the stunned dragons.

"I didn't know you were bringing her, Hagrid," Charlie said, frowning. "The champions aren't supposed to know what's coming - she's bound to tell her student, isn't she?"

"Jus' thought she'd like ter see 'em," shrugged Hagrid, still gazing, enraptured, at the dragons.

"Really romantic date, Hagrid," said Charlie, shaking his head.

"Four..." said Hagrid, "so it's one for each o' the champions, is it? What've they gotta do - fight 'em?"

"Just get past them, I think," said Charlie. "We'll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don't know why...but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Its back end's as dangerous as its front, look."

Charlie pointed toward the Horntail's tail, and Harry saw long, bronze-colored spikes protruding along it every few inches.

Five of Charlie's fellow keepers staggered up to the Horntail at that moment, carrying a clutch of huge granite-gray eggs between them in a blanket. They placed them carefully at the Horntail's side. Hagrid let out a moan of longing.

"I've got them counted, Hagrid," said Charlie sternly. Then he said, "How's Marcus and Harry?"

"Fine," said Hagrid. He was still gazing at the eggs.

"Just hoping they're still fine after they've faced this lot," said Charlie grimly, looking out over the dragons' enclosure. "I didn't dare tell Mum what they've got to do for the first task; she's already having kittens about them..." Charlie imitated his mother's anxious voice. _"How could they let them enter that tournament, they're much too young! I thought they were all safe, I thought there was going to be an age limit!'_ She was in floods after that _Daily Prophet_ article about Harry. _'Harry still cries about his parents! Oh bless him, I never knew!'"_

Harry had had enough. Trusting to the fact that Hagrid wouldn't miss him, with the attractions of four dragons and Madame Maxime to occupy him, he turned silently and began to walk away, back to the castle.

However, he didn't two steps back to the castle when he heard something quite eerie: The flapping of wings.

Harry looked straight up to find a pitch black object in his left peripheral vision. He looked at it to see that its wings were flapping directly above the enclosure. Whatever it was, it wasn't very big, but it somehow brought a great sinking feeling in his stomach.

Which was confirmed by what happened next.

All of a sudden, Harry heard a roar quite unlike anything he ever heard before. It was high pitch, it was booming, and it seemed to reverberate around, through, and inside his body. Hearing this roar brought Harry to his knees, his hands clapped over his ears, wishing that the roar would stop.

He mustered what will power he had to look at the enclosure to find that everyone was brought to their knees, some of which were screaming.

Out of nowhere, purple fire was raining down upon the enclosure. Harry saw that the dragons somehow recovered from the Stunning Spells, but seemed greatly troubled, almost as if they were afraid, that they feared something nearby.

He then saw the Swedish Short-Snout being surrounded by purple flames, making a decent sized ring around the dragon, followed by a quake that seemed to violently shake the entire area.

He could hear roars and screams, but it all happened so fast, Harry couldn't make sense of anything happening. However, in five seconds, Harry heard a great _whoosh!_ through the air, followed by the dissipation of the purple fires that were strewed across the enclosure.

The wizards were recovering, standing up and surveying their surroundings.

"Blimey!" said Hagrid. "What was that?"

"I don't know!" said Charlie, who was looking around to see that the dragons were okay. "Hey, where's the Swedish Short-Snout?!"

Then, a terrified scream rang through the enclosure causing everyone, including Harry, to get closer, though Harry was careful to stay a good distance away.

Harry saw the wizards shining light down on the ground, and he felt immediately sick to his stomach.

Within the black ring that was made from the purple fire was blood, blood that covered every inch of land within the ring. Also within the ring was large chunks of what Harry could tell was blue-grey scales, some of which had muscle and bones attached to it.

"The Swedish Short-Snout!" yelled one wizard. "Completely mutiliated!"

"Great Scott! What on earth could've done this?!" yelled another wizard.

"We have to go tell Dumbledore!" said Charlie. "He needs to know that the First Task cannot happen!"

"You know as well as I, Charlie, that we cannot stop the First Task from taking place," said yet another wizard. "Yes, we'll have to inform Dumbledore, but we'll have to play the situation by ear..."

Having enough, Harry finally made his way back to the castle...

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: Path of Trials! Feel free to leave a review as it helps me be a better writer! Also, if you want to ask me any questions, please feel free to leave me a PM and, I promise, I will answer them to the best of my ability. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: Path of Trials!**


	20. (20) Showtime!

**Hello, one and all, to the next chapter in HP: Path of Trials! Not much to say except...**

 **Disclaimer: NO, absolutely NO, ownership of HP...save for OC's.**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter 20: Showtime!

 **Happy Reading, everybody!**

After the morning workout/self-training the following morning, Lorelei and Marcus made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. While they were discussing future adjustments to their training regimen at the Gryffindor Table, Marcus saw out of the corner of his eye Harry coming into the Great Hall, who made a straight beeline to Hermione sitting not too far away. Marcus was quite startled to see that Harry looked greatly distraught, as if he saw something extremely traumatizing. He then saw Harry waiting until finally dragging Hermione out of the Great Hall upon her finishing her breakfast, leaving Marcus greatly confused.

"What do you think _that_ was about?" asked Lorelei, who was watching the scene unfold alongside Marcus.

"I don't know, but it can't be good if Harry's feeling unraveled," stated Marcus.

The two of them then proceeded to talk a walk along the lake, once again speculating what the First Task would involve, but not making any headway.

* * *

The weekend went by without any significant events but, come Monday morning, Marcus was on the verge of a meltdown. For the first time in his life, he wanted to flee from everything. Run away from Hogwarts, and find a location in which no one would be able to find him. But, as he made his way into the Great Hall that morning, he knew he couldn't do it. On top of regarding Hogwarts as his home away from home, he knew that he would hate himself for the rest of his life if he ran away from a challenge, great or small. He couldn't bring himself to be away from Harry, Hermione, Ron, or Lorelei, especially not Lorelei...

Somehow, knowing that he had friends that would stand by him, no matter what, was a great comfort to him and left him feeling calmer than he had been up to that point. He saw Harry sitting down the Gryffindor and wondered what was going through his mind at that moment...

* * *

He finished his bacon with difficulty (his throat wasn't working too well), and as he and Hermione got up, he saw Cedric Diggory leaving the Hufflepuff table.

Marcus still didn't know about the dragons...the only champion who didn't, if Harry was right in thinking that Maxime and Karkaroff would have told Fleur and Krum...

"Hermione, I'll see you in the greenhouses," Harry said, coming to his decision as he watched Cedric leaving the Hall. "Go on, I'll catch you up."

"Harry, you'll be late, the bell's about to ring -"

"I'll catch you up, okay?"

By the time Harry reached the bottom of the marble staircase, Cedric was at the top. He was with a load of sixth-year friends. Harry didn't want to talk to Cedric in front of them; they were among those who had been quoting Rita Skeeter's aritcle at him every time he went near them. He followed Cedric at a distance and saw that he was heading toward the Charms corridor. This gave Harry an idea. Pausing at a distance from them, he pulled out his wand, and took careful aim.

 _"Diffindo!"_

Cedric's bag split. Parchment, quills, and books spilled out of it onto the floor. Several bottles of ink smashed.

"Don't bother," said Cedric in an exasperated voice as his friends bent down to help him. "Tell Flitwick I'm coming, go on..."

This was exactly what Harry had been hoping for. He slipped his wand back into his robes, waited until Cedric's friends had disappeared into the classroom, and hurried up the corridor, which was now empty of everyone but himself and Cedric.

"Hi," said Cedric, picking up a copy of _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ that was now splattered with ink. "My bag just split...brand-new and all..."

"Cedric," said Harry, "the first task is dragons."

"What?" said Cedric, looking up.

"Dragons," said Harry, speaking quickly, in case Professor Flitwick came out to see where Cedric had got to. "They've got four, one for each of the champions, and we've got to get past them."

Cedric stared at him. Harry same some of the panic he'd been feeling since Saturday night flickering in Cedric's gray eyes.

"Are you sure?" Cedric said in a hushed voice.

"Dead sure," said Harry. "I've seen them."

"But how did you find out? The champions are not supposed to know..."

"Never mind," said Harry quickly - he knew Hagrid would be in trouble if he told the truth. "But I'm not the only one who knows. Fleur and Krum will know by now - Maxime and Karkaroff both saw the dragons too."

Cedric straightened up, his arms full of inky quills, parchment, and books, his ripped bag dangling off his shoulder. He stared at Harry, and there was a puzzled, almost suspicious look in his eyes.

"Why are you telling me?" he asked.

Harry looked at him with disbelief before recovering and saying, "Look, I know that you're training with Marcus, and I know he won't let me tell him outright, but he needs to know."

"And what makes you think Marcus will let me tell him?" asked Cedric.

"Well, I mean...it's just fair, isn't it?" he said to Cedric. "We all know now...we're on an even footing, aren't we?"

Cedric was still looking at him in a slightly suspicious way when Harry heard a familiar clunking noise behind him. He turned around and saw Mad-Eye Moody emerging from a nearby classroom.

"Come with me, Potter," he growled. "Diggory, off you go."

Harry stared apprehensively at Moody. Had he overheard them?

"Er - Professor, I'm supposed to be in Herbology -"

"Never mind that, Potter. In my office, please..."

Harry followed him, wondering what was going to happen to him now...

* * *

Lorelei entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, hoping to use her limited free time to ask Professor Moody for help on her most recent homework assignment. However, he was about to approach the office door when she heard footsteps approaching.

"Crap!" she said out loud before she got her wand out and quickly cast the Disillusionment Charm on herself.

By the time the spell took full effect, she saw Professor Moody and Harry making their way to the very door she was in front of.

Startled, Lorelei hurried so that she was out of the way enough where she couldn't be noticed as the two of them walked by, opened the office door, and went inside.

Deciding the keep the Disillusionment Charm on her, she approached the door and pinned her right ear against it, curiosity getting the best of her...

* * *

"That was a very decent thing you just did, Potter," Moody said quietly.

Harry didn't know what to say; this wasn't the reaction he had expected at all.

"Sit down," said Moody, and Harry sat, looking around.

He had visited this office under two of its previous occupants. In Professor Lockhart's day, the walls had been plastered with beaming, winking pictures of Professor Lockhart himself. When Lupin had lived here,, you were more likely to come across a specimen of some fascinating new Dark creature he had procured for them to study in class. Now, however, the office was full of a number of exceptionally odd objects that Harry supposed Moody had used in the days when he had been an Auror.

On his desk stood what looked like a large, cracked, glass spinning top; Harry recognized it at once as a Sneakoscope, because he owned one himself, though it was much smaller than Moody's. In the corner on a small table stood an object that looked something like an extra-squiggly, golden television aerial. It was humming slightly. What appeared to be a mirror hung opposite Harry on the wall, but it was not reflecting the room. Shadowy figures were moving around inside it, none of them clearly in focus.

"Like my Dark Detectors, do you?" said Moody, who was watching Harry closely.

"What's that?" Harry asked, pointing at the squiggly golden aerial.

"Secrecy Sensor. Vibrates when it detects concealment and lies...no use here, of course, too much interference - students in every direction lying about why they haven't done their homework. Been humming ever since I got here. I had to disable my Sneakoscope because it wouldn't stop whistling. It's extra-sensitive, picks up stuff about a mile around. Of course, it could be picking up more than kid stuff," he added in a growl.

"And what's the mirror for?"

"Oh that's my Foe-Glass. See them out there, skulking around? I'm not really in trouble until I see the whites of their eyes. That's when I open my trunk."

He let out a short, harsh laugh,and pointed to the large trunk under the window. It had seven keyholes in a row. Harry wondered what was in there, until Moody's next question brought him sharply back to earth.

"So...found out about the dragons, have you?"

Harry hesitated. He'd been afraid of this - but he hadn't told Cedric, and he certainly wasn't going to tell Moody, that Hagrid had broken the rules.

"It's all right," said Moody, sitting down and stretching out his wooden leg with a groan. "Cheating's a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and always has been."

"I didn't cheat," said Harry sharply. "It was - a sort of accident that I found out."

Moody grinned. "I wasn't accusing you, laddie. I've been telling Dumbledore from the start, he can be as high-minded as he likes, but you can bet old Karkaroff and Maxime won't be. They'll have told their champions everything they can. They want to win. They want to beat Dumbledore. They'd like to prove he's only human."

Moody gave another harsh laugh, and his magical eye swiveled around so fast it made Harry feel queasy to watch it.

"So...got any ideas how you're going to get past your dragon yet?" said Moody.

"No," said Harry.

"Well, I'm not going to tell you,"said Moody gruffly. "I don't show favoritism, me. I'm just going to give you some good, general advice. And the first bit is - _play to your strengths."_

"I haven't got any," said Harry, before he could stop himself.

"Excuse me," growled Moody, "you've got strengths if I say you've got them. Think now. What are you best at?"

Harry tried to concentrate. What _was_ he best at? Well, that was easy, really -

"Quidditch," he said dully, "and a fat lot of help -"

"That's right," said Moody, staring at him very hard, his magical eye barely moving at all. "You're a damn good flier from what I've heard."

"Yeah, but..." Harry stared at him. "I'm not allowed a broom, I've only got my wand -"

"My second piece of general advice," said Moody loudly, interrupting him, "is to use a nice, simple spell that will enable you to _get what you need."_

Harry looked at him blankly. What did he need?

"Come on, boy..." whispered Moody. "Put them together...it's not that difficult..."

And it clicked. He was best at flying. He needed to pass the dragon in the air. For that, he needed the Firebolt. And for his Firebolt, he needed -

* * *

Lorelei watched as the office door opened, Harry walking out of it with a blaze of determination written all over his face. Deciding she would ask Professor Moody some other time, she started to slowly and silently walk out of the classroom.

However, she wasn't able to take two steps when she heard, "I know you're there, Ms. Flamel. In my office, if you please."

Cursing herself, she lifted the Disillusionment Charm, opened the office door, entered it, and closed the door behind her, asking, "You could see me, Professor?"

"This eye here -" Professor Moody pointed to his magical eye, "can see through Invisibility Cloaks and Disillusioment Charms, Ms. Flamel. Comes in handy, but I wasn't aware of any third-years being able to perform the charm."

"Well, I'm the only one, you see," she said, feeling a slight blush creeping on her face. "It's - um - rather exclusive."

"I see," said Professor Moody, wearing a grin on his face, making him look that much more creepy. "Then, you mean to tell Marcus about the dragons, as well."

What was previously a slight blush turned full-on red face embarrassment as she stumbled, "W-w-well, it's not that I couldn't, it's just that Marcus is so, um, prideful."

"Stubborn is what I'd use, Ms. Flamel," said Professor Moody. "No doubt gets that from his mother, Brynn Williams. No, Ms. Flamel, you tell him, force it down his throat, if you have to. But, he won't need any help in terms of strategy."

Startled, her face returned to normal as she asked, "And what makes you so confident in saying that?"

"Because, if he's half of what his father is, he'll be able to think up of a winning strategy overnight," stated Professor Moody of what was no doubt utmost confidence. "His father is perhaps the most brilliant strategist and tactician in the Wizarding World. Haven't seen anyone else close to his talents. However, if he's anything like his mother..."

"What do you mean?" said Lorelei, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Well, let's just say I'd be more worried about the dragon than the boy," said Moody in yet another twisted smile of his. "Now, run along, Ms. Flamel, and don't forget to ask Marcus for help on your assignment. It's due on Tuesday."

Lorelei then all but ran out of the office, eager to let Marcus know what he needed to know...

* * *

As eager as he was to get in one last workout/self-training session before the First Task tomorrow, he had to go through the rest of the day first, something that seemed quite daunting when all he wanted to do was prepare. After lunch, he went to Divination, where he had to endure half of the lesson of Professor Trelawney telling everyone that the position of Mars with relation to Saturn at that moment meant that people born in July were in great danger of sudden, violent deaths.

"Well, that's good," said Harry loudly, who clearly lost his temper, "just as long as it's not drawn-out."

"Yeah, no need to needlessly suffer," growled Marcus, who was quite sick of listening to Professor Trelawney himself.

Ron looked for a moment as though he was going to laugh; he certainly caught Marcus and Harry's eyes for the first time in days, but Marcus still felt too angry at Ron to really give it much mind. He spent the rest of the lesson thinking of training and what spells he could possibly try to master and/or refine before the task took place.

Finally, he got himself a light dinner, wolfing it down as quickly as he could before informing Lorelei and Cedric to meet him in the Room of Requirement immediately.

Marcus still beat Cedric and Lorelei to the Room of Requirement, so he waited for around five minutes before the two of them made their way into the room, ensuring no one else was behind them.

"Great, everyone's here now!" said Marcus in a cheerful voice, or rather as cheerful as he could sound being so nervous, "Now, I was thinking that the two of you would continue to do your intense physical workouts, while I take it easy. Have to be ready to go for the task and - and everything. Also, I was thinking we could spend more time tonight to - to..."

He paused to look at Cedric and Lorelei, both of which looked incredibly uneasy.

"Goodness, guys, we won't be doing anything out of the ordinary," said Marcus, who felt a little perturbed. "Now, for spells, I was thinking -"

"Dragons," Cedric said quite suddenly.

Marcus turned to look at him and said, "What?"

"Marcus, the first task is dragons," Cedric stated, looking quite determined.

Marcus' eyes narrowed, he felt full-on anger.

"Harry told you, didn't he?" said Marcus in a dangerous tone.

"Yes," said Cedric. "But, does that mean you knew, too?"

"Of course I didn't!" Marcus half-shouted. "But now it makes sense why Harry's been completely on edge since Saturday! He found out about the dragons that night...HAGRID SHOWED HIM THE DRAGONS!"

Marcus facepalmed himself and said, "And, if I had to take a guess, Madame Maxime accompanied him under the guise of a date to ensure she could inform Fleur of the dragons. I'm also willing to bet that Professor Karkaroff sneaked out there to get his champion, Krum, all caught up. I mean, two people of that size are not hard to miss. Which meant I was going to be the only one caught off guard tomorrow, right?"

"Um, well, that about sums that up," said Cedric.

Marcus took a few deep breaths before saying, "Harry told you to tell me about the dragons so that all the champions would be on the same playing field for the First Task. Admirable, but he has no concept of how a rivarly is supposed to work. I wonder if he's got his strategy yet?"

"He will now, thanks to Professor Moody," said Lorelei. Marcus quickly looked at Lorelei as she continued to say, "I overheard the two of them talking in his office. He didn't outright help him, but he may as well given Harry the keys to his strategy."

"Then I've got to formulate mine," said Marcus, who grabbed a nearby quill and parchment and started to furiously jot down personal notes, leaving Cedric and Lorelei looking at each other in confusion until, five minutes later, Marcus brought the parchment to Cedric and said, "All right, Cedric, look at it, let me know what you think."

Cedric looked over it, speaking out loud along the way.

"Well, most of this is pretty sound - wait, you've only been working on this one recently, I wouldn't use it right away, at the very least...Marcus, you can't possibly use this one!"

Marcus looked to where Cedric was pointing and said, "Well, I'm confident that I can use that spell well enough as a distraction."

"I don't think so, Marcus," said Cedric. "Granted, you've made the most progress out of all of us with that spell, but it's still not ready for actual application yet."

"I don't have a choice, Cedric," said Marcus, his eyes full of worry. "I'm not left with much of anything else."

"Still, try to avoid it, if you can," said Cedric, who looked concerned.

Lorelei, who was looking at the list, saw the note at the very bottom and shrieked, "Marcus, don't you dare use that tactic!"

Marcus looked at Lorelei and, knowing what she was referring to, said, "Lorelei, that strategy would only be in case of an emergency -"

"The ramifications of that strategy could get you in HUGE trouble!" shouted Lorelei. "Promise me that, unless your life is in danger, you will _not_ use that strategy!"

"All right, all right, I promise," said Marcus, holding his hands up in surrender.

He then said, "Well, Cedric, Lorelei, get started on your physical workouts. I'm going to forego the physical workout tonight and double up on spell mastering and refinement."

Feeling more determined than he had been since being selected champion, Marcus summoned his wand, getting ready to start...

* * *

As he surveyed his surroundings, The Dark Prince was quite impressed.

"So, this is the place they'll host the First Task," he said, looking at the surrounding structure. "Not bad, not bad at all. But, for an event such as this, perhaps it will simply not be enough. Guess it needs a few finishing touches."

He raised his right hand, his open palm facing the wooden walls draped by fabric. Suddenly, section by section, the wooden walls morphed into metal walls and afterwards raised so that the top of the wall was twenty feet above the ground.

With a swipe of his right hand, the fabric was removed from the walls, gathering to a single point above him before disappearing from the air.

He then took his left hand, once again his open palm facing the wall, and moved his hand over the wall, each section of it getting burned and traced, making images of past tasks and tournament achievements over each square foot of the inner wall.

"A little history goes a long way," remarked the Dark Prince before looking to the ground and saying, "And now for the final touch..."

He then knelt to the ground, placing his right hand on the ground as well and, suddenly, dark energy permeated out onto the ground inside the wall like a wave, only stopping when the dark energy waves hit the metal wall surrounding.

"Marcus Williams, prepare yourself for battle," stated the Dark Prince as they dark energy waves stopped.

He then stood up, took one last look around, and smirked with satisfaction before disappearing on the spot...

* * *

Marcus had been so focused on getting his strategy for the First Task refined that most of his panic had left him and he was able to get a decent night sleep. However, it returned in full measure and more the following morning, leaving Marcus having to take calming breaths just to ensure he didn't get sent to the hopsital wing due to keeling over from panic. The atmosphere in the school was one of great tension and excitement. Lessons were to stop at midday, giving all the students time to get down to the dragons' enclosure - though of course, they didn't yet know what they would find there.

Marcus felt completely isolated from everyone else around him, even Lorelei, whether they were wishing him good luck or booing him. It was a state of nervousness so advanced, he was surprised that he was still able to function properly at all. He wouldn't be surprised if he froze up a bit when confronted with the dragon and started blasting everyone in sight, just so they wouldn't be able to see anything. Time was behaving in a more peculiar fashion than ever, rushing past in great dollops, so that one moment he seemed to be sitting down in his first lesson, History of Magic, and the next, walking into lunch...and then (where had the morning gone? the last of the dragon-free hours?), Professor McGonagall was hurrying over to him in the Great Hall. Lots of people were watching.

"Williams, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now...You have to get ready for your first task."

"What about Harry, Professor?"

"I'll be escorting Mr. Potter after I've escorted you, Mr. Williams. Professor Dumbledore prefers to keep the two of you seperate until the first task is done."

"Fair enough," said Marcus in a voice most unlike his own as he got up and left the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall.

As they were walking to the enclosure, Marcus noticed that she, too, didn't seem herself; in fact, she looked nearly as anxious as Hermione did when she wished him good luck the night before. As she walked him down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, she put her hand on his right shoulder.

"Now, don't panic," she said, "just keep a cool head...We've got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand...The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any worse of you...Are you all right?"

"I will be once this is done," Marcus heard himself say.

She was leading him toward the place where the dragons must've been located, around the edge of the forest, but when they approached it, Marcus saw that an enormous tent had been erected, its entrance facing them, no doubt screening the dragons from view.

"You're to go in here with the other champions," said Professor McGonagall, in a rather shaky sort of voice, "and wait for your turn, Williams. Mr. Bagman is in there...he'll be telling you the - the procedure...Good luck."

"Thanks," said Marcus in a hollow sort of voice as she left him at the entrance of the tent, turning around to get Harry, no doubt. Marcus then proceeded to enter the tent.

Fleur was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, but Marcus supposed that was his way of dealing with stress. Neither champion really recognized him coming into the tent, but Marcus preferred it that way. He wanted to get psyched up for the task ahead.

He decided to lean up against a post, going over his strategy in his head, imagining it unfold before the crowd and in front of the dragon as to try and see what he could possibly do and in what manner it needed to be executed in.

Mr. Bagman came in a little bit after Marcus did, acknowledging the champions with a jovial greeting, one that Marcus did not reciprocate, in case it broke his concentration.

Which eventually did when he heard Mr. Bagman happily say, "Harry! Good-o! Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"

Marcus, whose eyes were shut in concentration, opened them to see Harry at the entrance of their gathering point, Marcus doing his best to smile in encouragment, which didn't really work, as his face muscles seemed a little too tight, like they forgotten how to smile.

"Well, now we're all here - time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly. "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag" - he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them - "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different - er - varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too...ah yes...your task is to _collect the golden egg_!"

Marcus looked around. Fleur and Viktor hadn't reacted at all, perhaps feeling that if they opened their mouths, they would get sick. Harry certainly looked the same...

And in no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking...Marcus felt as separate from the crowd as he did in the castle, like they were a different species. And then - it seemed like an instant to Marcus - Bagman was opening the neck of the purple silk sack.

"Ladies first," he said, offering it to Fleur.

She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon - a Welsh Green. It had the number one around its neck. Marcus knew, by the fact that Fleur showed no sign of surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that Marcus surmised correctly: Madame Maxime had told here what was coming.

The same held true for Krum. He pulled out a scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had the number two around its neck. He didn't even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground.

Harry put his hands in the bag, and out came what Marcus recognized, much to his dismay, the black Hungarian Horntail, to which the white-haired wizard felt no envy for. The small dragon had the number three hanging around its neck, stretching its wings as Harry was looking down at it, and bared its minuscule fangs.

 _"Well, guess I'm going last,"_ thought Marcus grimly as he stuck his hand in the purple bag, aware that all eyes were on him.

He grasped something at the bottom of the bag, pulled it on, and thought for sure someone was playing with him.

The only thing that he was able to pull out of the bag was a little sign on string that had the number four on it. No dragon, not even any indication that a dragon even had it around its neck.

He looked at Mr. Bagman with a steely death stare as the man stumbled, "Ah...yes...well, there you are! You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Ms. Delacour, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right?"

"Hang on!" Marcus half-shouted, dangling his small sign. "Am I to think I'll be taking on an _invisible_ dragon?!"

"A mystery dragon, young Mr. Williams," said Mr. Bagman a little too quickly. "Just to add a bit of a challenge, I assure you." Mr. Bagman then turned to Harry and said, "Now...Harry...could I have a quick word? Outside?"

As Harry followed Mr. Bagman outside, Marcus went to pacing the champions' area, fuming at the circumstances. How was it that, while the other champions got to know the dragons they were facing, _he_ was the one who was still left in the dark?

 _"It doesn't matter,"_ thought Marcus. _"The strategy remains the same. Execute the strategy, and that golden egg is as good as mine."_

Suddenly, Marcus heard the roar of the crowd, which he could only mean that Fleur had entered the enclosure and was now face-to-face with the living counterpart of her model...

It was worse than Marcus imagined it would be, sitting there and listening. The crowd screamed...yelled...gasped like a single many-headed entity, as Fleur did whatever she was doing to get past the Common Welsh Green. Krum was still staring at the ground. Harry looked as if he was about to vomit where he was standing, to which Marcus didn't blame him in the slightest. And hearing Bagman's commentary made everything much, much worse...Horrible pictures started to form in his mind as he heard: "Oh I'm not sure that was wise! Oh...nearly! Careful now...good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"

Ten minutes later, Marcus heard the crowd erupt into applause once more...Fleur must have been successful, of this there was no doubt. Clapping was ringing through the air before silence captured the noise.

"Very good!" Bagman was shouting. "And now the marks from the judges!"

But the judges didn't say them out loud, which Marcus wished that they did. Perhaps they didn't want the other competitors getting an unfair advantage, he reasoned.

Shortly afterwards, the shrill of the whistle pierced the air, signaling Krum to make his way into the enclosure, leaving Marcus and Harry in the champions' tent.

Marcus felt as if his whole body was vibrating, so bad his nerves were getting. Not even going down into the Chamber of Secrets brought about this much nervousness. His heart was beating like a drum, his fingers tingling so badly he had to keep them moving just to make sure they were still on his hands and, as much as he was aware of his own body, he felt greatly separated from it, like he was having an out-of-body experience.

Eventually, he was able to barely bring himself back to earth as he heard Bagman yell, "Very daring!" as the Chinese Fireball emit a horrible, roaring shriek, while the crowd drew its collective breath. "That's some nerve he's showing - and - yes, he's got the egg!"

Applause shattered the wintery air like breathing glass; Krum had finished - Harry's turn was next, and he would follow shortly after.

Unable to take it anymore, Marcus rushed to a closed off portion of the champions' area, clutching his head in fear. He was losing his grip, his calm and his mind. He didn't know what to do..what if things got out of his control and he was merely looking at the way he was going to die?

Marcus was freaking out so badly that it startled him to hear a familiar voice say, "Master?"

Marcus gave a small yelp as he looked up and saw that it was -

"Blinky?" exasperated Marcus. "What the heck are you doing here?"

"I was told that Master would be needing this," he simply said, lifting what Marcus realized was a familiar box up to him.

Hands greatly trembling, Marcus lifted the lid of the box and gasped upon seeing -

"My battle suit!" Marcus exclaimed as he was looking down upon his all-white outfit.

Marcus remembered this quite well, as it was the battle suit Mr. Xerk from Omnifabrics in Hogsmeade made for him specifically and given to him as a gift from Lorelei last year for Christmas, but he hadn't touched it since that time. He hadn't thought of a need for it...until now.

 _"Now would be a great time to wear this,"_ thought Marcus as he said, "T-T-Thank you, Blinky. You may return to your duties."

He hurried to strip the clothes he was wearing and looked to grab his undershirt, which upon grabbing it, shined white and sparkled with a shine unequaled by any fabric, the same way it did when he was getting measured for the outfit in Mr. Xerk's store.

He put it on, which was a perfect fit, and instantly, somehow, all of his fears and doubts washed away, replaced by confidence and determination.

As he calmly put on the rest of his all-white battle suit, he thought, _"Harry, good luck out there. Show Hogwarts what you can do."_

* * *

As he saw Marcus rushing to a closed off portion of the tent, Harry stood up, noticing dimly that his legs seemed to be made of marshmellow. He waited. And then he heard the whistle blow. He walked out through the entrance of the tent, the panic rising into a crescendo inside him. And now he was walking past the trees, through a gap in the enclosure's metal walls, coming down behind him.

He saw everything in front of him as though it was a very highly colored dream. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from stands that had been magicked there since he'd last stood on this spot. And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but whether friendly or not, Harry didn't know or care. It was time to do what he had to do...to focus his mind, entirely and absolutely, upon the thing that was his only chance...

He raised his wand.

 _"Accio Firebolt!"_ he shouted.

Harry waited, every fiber of him hoping, praying...If it hadn't worked...if it wasn't coming...He seemed to be looking at everything around him through some sort of shimmering, transparent barrier, like a heat haze, which made the enclosure and the hundreds of faces around him swim strangely...

And then he heard it, speeding through the air behind him; he turned and saw his Firebolt hurtling toward him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopping dead in midair beside him, waiting for him to mount. The crowd was making even more noise...Bagman was shouting something...but Harry's ear were not working properly anymore...listening wasn't important...

He swung his leg over the broom and kicked off from the ground. And a second later, something miraculous happened...

As he soared upward, as the wind rushed through his hair, as the crowd's faces became mere flesh-colored pinpricks below, and the Horntail shrank to the size of a dog, he realized that he had left not only the ground behind, but also his fear...He was back where he belonged...

This was just another Quidditch match, that was all...just another Quidditch match, and that Horntail was just another ugly opposing team...

He looked down at the clutch of eggs and spotted the gold one, gleaming against its cement-colored fellows, residing safely between the dragon's front legs. "Okay," Harry told himself," diversionary tactics...let's go..."

He dived. The Horntail's head followed him; he knew what it was going to do and pulled out of the dive just in time; a jet of fire had been released exactly where he would have been had he not swerved away...but Harry didn't care...that was no more than dodging a Bludger...

"Great Scott, he can fly!" yelled Bagman as the crowd shrieked and gasped. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

Harry soared higher in a circle; the Horntail was still following his progress; its head revolving on its long neck - if he kept this up, it would be nicely dizzy - but better not push it too long, or it would be breathing fire again -

Harry plummeted just as the Horntail opened its mouth, but this time he was less lucky - he missed the flames, but the tail came whipping up to meet him instead, and as he swerved to the left, one of the long spikes grazed his shoulder, ripping his robes -

He could feel its stinging, he could hear screaming and groans from the crowd, but the cut didn't seem too deep...Now he zoomed around the back of the Horntail, and a possibility occured to him...

The Horntail didn't seem to want to take off, she was too protective of her eggs. Though she writhed and twisted, furling and unfurling her wings and keeping those fearsome yellow eyes on Harry, she was afraid to move too far from them...but he had to persuade her to do it, or he'd never get near them...The trick was to do it carefully, gradually...

He began to fly, first this way, then the other, not near enough to make her breathe fire to stave him off, but still posing a sufficient threat to ensure she kept her eyes on him. Her head swayed this way and that, watching him out of those vertical pupils, her fangs bared...

He flew higher. The Horntail's head rose with him, her neck now stretched to its fullest extent, still swaying, like a snake before its charmer...

Harry rose a few more feet, and she let a roar of exasperation. He was like a fly to her, a fly she was longing to swat; her tail thrashed again, but he was too high to reach now...She shot fire into the air, which he dodged...Her jaws opened wide...

"Come on," Harry hissed, swerving tantalizingly above her, "come on, come and get me...up you get now..."

And then she reared, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last, as wide as those of a small airplane - and Harry dived. Before the dragon knew what he had done, or where he had disappeared to, he was speeding toward the ground as fast as he could go, toward the eggs now unprotected by her clawed front leg - he had taken his hand off the Firebolt - he had seized the golden egg -

And with a huge spurt of speed, he was off, he was soaring out over the stands, the heavy egg safely under his uninjured arm, and it was as though somebody had just turned the volume back up - for the first time, he became properly aware of the noise of the crowd, which was screaming and applauding as loudly as the All-Stars supporters at the World Cup -

"Look at that!" Bagman was yelling. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg so far! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"

Harry saw the dragon keepers rushing foward to subdue the Horntail, and, over at the entrance to the enclosure, Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody, and Hagrid hurrying to meet him, all of them waving him toward them, their smiles evident even from this distance. He flew back over the stands, the noise of the crowd pounding his eardrums, and came in smoothly to land, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks...He had got through the first task, he had survived...

"That was excellent, Potter!" cried Professor McGonagall as he got off the Firebolt - which from her was extravagant praise. He noticed that her hand shook as she pointed at his shoulder. "You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score...Over there, she's had to take care of Ms. Delacour already..."

"Yeh did it, Harry!" said Hagrid hoarsely. "Yeh did it! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors' -"

"Thanks, Hagrid," said Harry loudly, so that Hagrid wouldn't blunder on and reveal that he had shown Harry the dragons beforehand.

Professor Moody looked very pleased too; his magical eye was dancing in its socket.

"Nice and easy does the trick, Potter," he growled.

"Right then, Potter, the first aid tent, please..." said Professor McGonagall.

Harry walked out of the enclosure, still panting, and saw Madame Pomfrey standing at the mouth of a second tent, looking worried.

"Dragons!" she said, in a disgusted tone, pulling Harry inside. The tent was divided into cubicles; he could make out Fleur's shadow through the canvas, but Fleur didn't seem to be badly injured; she was sitting up straight, at least. Madam Pomfrey examined Harry's shoulder, talking furiously all the while. "Last year dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next? You're very lucky...this is quite shallow...it'll need cleaning before I heal it up, though..."

She cleaned the cut with a dab of some purple liquid that smoked and stung, but then poked his shoulder with her wand, and he felt it heal instantly.

"Now, just sit quietly for a minute - _sit_! And then you can go and get your score."

She bustled out of the tent and he heard her go next door and say, "All right, Ms. Delacour, you're healed up, so you're free to go and sit with Mr. Krum."

Harry didn't want to sit still: He was too full of adrenaline. He got to his feet, wanting to see what was going on outside, but before he'd reached the mouth of the tent, two people had come darting inside - Hermione, followed closely by Ron.

"Harry, you were brilliant!" Hermione said squeakily. There were fingernail marks on her face where she had been clutching it in fear. "You were amazing! You really were!"

But Harry was looking at Ron, who was very white and staring at Harry as though he were a ghost.

"Harry," he said, very seriously, "whoever put your name and Marcus' in that goblet - I - I reckon they're trying to do you two in!"

It was as though the last few weeks had never happened - as though Harry were meeting Ron for the first time, right after he and Marcus were made champions.

"Caught on, have you?" said Harry coldly. "Took you long enough."

Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other. Ron opened his mouth uncertainly. Harry knew Ron was about to apologize and suddenly he found he didn't need to hear it.

"It's okay," he said, before Ron could get the words out. "Forget it."

"No," said Ron, "I shouldn't've -"

 _"Forget it,"_ Hary said.

Ron grinned nervously at him, and Harry grinned back.

Hermione burst into tears.

"There's nothing to cry about!" Harry told her, bewildered.

"You two are so _stupid_!" she shouted, stamping her foot on the ground, tears splashing down her front. Then, before either of them could stop her, she had given both of them a hug and dashed away, now positively howling.

"Barking mad," said Ron, shaking his head. "Harry, c'mon, they'll be putting up your scores..."

Picking up the golden egg and his Firebolt, feeling more elated than he would have believed possible an hour ago, Harry ducked out of the tent, Ron by his side, talking fast.

"You were the best so far, you know, no competition. That Fleur girl tried this sort of charm, I think she was trying to put it into a trance - well, that kind of worked too, it went all sleepy, but then it snorted, and this great jet of flame shot out, and her skirt caught fire - she put it out with a bit of water out of her wand. Krum - blimey, Harry, you won't believe this, but he didn't even think of flying! He was probably the best after you, though, at least so far. Hit it with some sort of spell right in the eye. Only thing is, it went trampling around in agony and squashed half the real eggs - they took marks off for that, he wasn't supposed to do any damage to them."

Ron drew breath as he and Harry reached the edge of the enclosure. Now that the Horntail had been taken away, Harry could see where the five judges were sitting - right at the other end, in raised seats draped in gold.

"It's marks out of ten from each one," Ron said, and Harry, squinting up the field, saw the first judge - Madame Maxime - raise her wand in the air. What looked like a long silver ribbon shot out of it, which twisted itself into a large figure eight.

"Not bad!" said Ron as the crowd applauded. "I suppose she took marks off for your shoulder..."

Mr. Crouch came next. He shot a number nine into the air.

"Looking good!" Ron yelled, thumping Harry on the back.

Next, Dumbledore. He too put up a nine. The crowd was cheering harder than ever.

Ludo Bagman - _ten_.

"Ten?" said Harry in disbelief. "But...I got hurt...What's he playing at?"

"Harry, don't complain!" Ron yelled excitedly.

And now Karkaroff raised his wand. He paused for a moment, and then a number shot out of his wand too - four.

 _"What?"_ Ron bellowed furiously. _"Four?_ You lousy, biased scumbag, you gave Krum ten!"

But Harry didn't care, he wouldn't have cared if Karkaroff had given him zero; Ron's indignation on his behalf was worth about a hundred points to him. He didn't tell Ron this, of course, but his heart felt lighter than air as he turned to look at the crowd. And it wasn't just Ron...those weren't only Gryffindor cheering in the crowd. When it had come to it, when they had seen what he was facing, most of the school had been on his side as well as Marcus'...He didn't care about the Slytherins, he could stand whatever they threw at him now.

"You're tied in first place, Harry! You and Krum!" said Charlie Weasley, hurrying to meet them as they were looking to get out of the enclosure's arena. "Listen, I've got to hurry, we're setting up for Marcus' run at his dragon. But that was unbelievable! Oh yeah - and they told me to tell you you've got to hang around after the first task is completed...Bagman wants a word, back in the champions' tent."

As they saw Charlie hurrying to a large entrance big enough to fit a dragon, both Harry and Ron looked to find that Hermione and Lorelei were waving at them, indicating that they can sit down next to them.

"Blimey, Harry," said Ron as he and Harry were walking over to them. "What do you think Marcus'll have to go up against?"

"Don't know," said Harry as a couple of dragon keepers raised the two up to the seats using their wands. "Marcus just pulled the number four out of the purple silk bag."

 _"What?!"_ said Ron. "So Marcus has no idea what kind of dragon he'll be going up against?"

"I'm not worried," said Harry, though he felt otherwise. "Marcus will come out victorious...he always does..."

Once Harry and Ron took their seats next to Hermione and Lorelei, Harry noticed that not only could he see the judges and the other two champions, Fleur and Viktor, he could see -

"Mr. and Mrs. Williams!" said Harry, looking behind him.

Sitting directly behind him was Michael and Brynn Willliams, who both had pleasant looks on their faces.

"Congratulations on getting past the first task, Harry!" said Brynn excitedly.

"That was a brilliant strategy, Harry," said Michael. "Way to play to your strengths."

"Thank you, Mr. Williams," said Harry, not sure of what else to say.

Harry looked at the arena to see that the dragon keepers had only placed the single golden egg on the perch and hurried out of the arena, the giant entryway still ajar.

"Where's the dragon?" asked Lorelei.

"Not sure," said Ron. "Thought'd it already be out here..."

They then heard Bagman yell, "Well, looks like everything is set up for our final champion, Mr. Marcus Williams! Marcus, my lad, it's your turn!"

The group then heard Mr. Bagman blow through the whistle, making that familiar shrilly sound, leaving them quite anxious as to what would happen next...

* * *

Having already gotten his battle suit on, his hood over his head, Marcus stood calmly at the entrance, waiting for his time to come. A bit of time had passed since Harry's impressive performance against the Horntail and he couldn't wait to get out there and get it over with.

He was no longer afraid or doubtful. He knew exactly what he needed to do and how to go about doing it. The only thing missing was his opponent, but he didn't care. He was ready.

Finally, Marcus could hear the shrilly sound of the whistle echo through the air and couldn't help but smirk as he said out loud and to himself, "Showtime."

Marcus exited the champions' tent, ready for his challenge...

 **And this concludes another chapter of HP: Path of Trials! Feel free to leave a review on this story, as this'll help me become a better writer! Also, if you had any questions for me, feel free to leave me a PM and, I promise, I will answer them to the best of my ability! Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next _exciting_ chapter of HP: Path of Trials!**


	21. (21) The Great Duel

**Hello, one and all, and welcome to a very EXCITING chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! First, my deepest apologies to you all, as it has been the longest of times since I've updated this story! Lots of things have happened that haven't exactly motivated me to keep on top of this story. Also, I recently found out that I'll be going overseas for my job in the fall, so while that's huge news, there's a lot of prep work that'll need to go into that and not much time for anything else. Also, this chapter is the chapter I've been looking forward to posting the most since I've started this entire series, so I'm glad I've gotten to this point. One last thing...**

 **Disclaimer: I have no ownership of HP except for OC's.**

 **Strap yourselves in, ladies and gentlemen, for...**

Chapter 21: The Great Duel

 **Happy Reading!**

It seemed like forever, but eventual, Lorelei saw the shadow of Marcus making his way into the metal arena.

"Look, here he comes!" said Lorelei. "He's -"

But Lorelei found herself lost for words.

As she saw Marcus come into the arena, slowly but surely, she saw that he was wearing his all-white battle suit, with the hood over his head, but she surely thought that it couldn't be him. The young man standing in the arena seemed to exude a sort of confidence that few people in the world had. This young man looked prepared, egnimatic, and powerful.

Lorelei was not the only one to feel this way. The majority of the crowd gasped in awe at the figure standing in the arena.

"That battle suit," gasped Hermione. "Is it new?"

"It was given to him last year," said Lorelei. "And now he's finally wearing it."

"Looks like Mr. Xerk put that outfit together for him," said Michael from behind them.

Lorelei looked behind her to face him and said, "How do you know?"

"The hood's enchanted so that, while the hood is up, no one can see his face," stated Michael. "That spellwork has Mr. Xerk's name written all over it. Try to look at his face, if you don't believe me."

Lorelei looked to see that Mr. Williams was right: She tried to look at his face, but all she could see was a bright, white light that she couldn't look beyond.

"Where the hell's that bloody dragon?" said Ron. "Shouldn't it be out here by now?"

* * *

Marcus, not wanting to look up at the many faces in the crowd, was instead looking at the ground and the walls, surveying his surroundings. Everything seemed to work in his favor, should he need to use the arena to his advantage. The size of the arena in question was about the same size as the Quidditch Field, only the stands were not as high off of the ground.

He also noticed that there was only the single golden egg on the perch when there should've been at least a half dozen dragon eggs with it.

 _"Something's not right,"_ thought Marcus. _"I'll enhance my vision and try to see if I can figure it out."_

So, he did just that and, when he did, he instantly felt his heart drop to his stomach.

He could see a purple aura sphere extend to what Marcus guessed to be around a forty foot radius, the likes of which Marcus had never seen before, and in the center of the sphere was a creature standing on its hind legs, the creature in question being draped in a pitch-black aura, standing just beyond the giant entryway in the shadows.

Marcus hoped against everything he knew that he was dead wrong, that what he was about to say was going to make him look like an idiot. Anything else would make him feel better.

However -

 _"_ _ **Why don't you come out where I can see you, Shieldhide?"**_ Marcus said out loud.

* * *

Brynn clapped her hands to her mouth in horror. Not only did her son speak Drakon, but he also said something quite prepostorous...

"A Shieldhide?!" Brynn gasped. "Here?!"

The crowd, which only just quieted down, was now in an uproar, most in disbelief, some were laughing.

Michael, with a serious face, said, "There can't possibly..."

However, Michael was cut off by a voice, no doubt speaking Drakon, but Brynn heard every word.

 **"How interesting. You can speak Drakon, boy. Makes this much easier for me."**

Recognizing the voice, Brynn fully enhanced her vision and saw -

Menacingly growling, she said, "What is _she_ doing here?!"

"What?!" said Michael, turning and gasping at what he was seeing.

Nearly everyone gasped when they saw...

* * *

Marcus, not being able to see the creature properly with his enhanced vision, returned his vision to normal and felt his jaw drop.

Walking into the arena on its hind legs was a dragon, but it was by no means a normal dragon. The dragon in question was white all over, both underbelly and scales. The scales were shining, like someone took crushed diamonds and sprinkled it on every inch of the dragon's white scales. Marcus could see the tail extending as far back as the dragon was standing up, which was around eight feet in height. The end of the tail was rounded, a sphere about three feet in radius, and the wings that the dragon had seemed to have a wingspan of no less than fifteen feet. The dragon's body was unusually slender, but Marcus had a bad feeling that, underneath the slenderness was a well-trained and flexible muscular system. He could tell by the rather extreme muscle tone evident all over the dragon's body. The dragon had the exact same kind of horns as the one in his dreams, only these were pure white.

But, what scared Marcus the most were the dragon's eyes.

Eyes of pure gold, without mercy, full of anger and rage, just looking into these eyes made Marcus quiver. He knew, somehow, someway, that this dragon was not only powerful, but highly experienced in fighting and combat.

The other thing that scared Marcus about this dragon was its mannerisms. The dragon standing on its hind legs masterfully, the way it walked into the arena with the arms swinging by the sides, all of it was...strikingly _human_...

The dragon pointed the left pointer claw at him and said, _**"Let's get down to brass tacks, then. You'll have seven minutes to retrieve this golden egg on top of the perch behind me."**_ she used the other clawed hand to point to the golden egg in question. _**"Succeed, and I'll let you live. Fail, and not only will you die, but so will everyone here and your precious castle will crumble until only bricks remain. Do you agree to my terms?"**_

Marcus growled in anger. He was put in a bind, and he knew it. So did the dragon (whom Marcus knew was female, based on the voice he heard), who smirked in satisfaction as she lifted her right leg off the ground and held it in the air, as if waiting for some kind of cue...

To back on the offer would mean backing out of the tournament, and to back out of the tournament was out of the question, as it would kill him, as his father put it.

Steeling himself for the immediate future, Marcus raised his own right leg and said, **"I AGREE TO YOUR TERMS!"**

As Marcus went to slam his right foot into the ground, he didn't know how, but he had a bad feeling of what was about to happen...

* * *

"What's going on?" Lorelei heard Ron say. "Why are their legs in the air like that?"

Suddenly, she heard a gasp from behind her, followed by Mrs. Williams screaming, "NO, MARCUS, DON'T!"

It was too late, Lorelei realized. She saw both the dragon and Marcus slamming their respective right foot into the ground, and the most bizarre and terrifying thing happened.

The ground started to violently shake, but it only lasted for a few seconds, after which great pillars of fire started to form along the edge of the arena, flame pillars of purple and white that extended to very top of the walls. People were gasping in awe and cheering, but Lorelei had a feeling this was a far darker happenstance...

Brynn couldn't believe this. First, the appearance of _her,_ and now this?!

"We've got to go to Dumbledore, NOW!" she said, looking at Michael.

"Yes, I agree," said Michael, who had a far darker look than she'd seen in a while. "Let's go."

They didn't get a chance to get up from their seats when Brynn heard the female dragonsay, **"All right, boy! Let's see what you got!"**

Brynn looked to find that the dragonstarted to breathe fire, only the fire started to form a sphere in front of the mouth, and it was doing so very rapidly, getting bigger and bigger by the second...

"Great Scott, is that a _fireball_?!" yelled Bagman to the crowd. "Good Lord, I believe it is!"

Then, without warning, the dragonlaunched the fireball right at Marcus, which rocketed at him like a bullet.

"MARCUS, DODGE!" Brynn heard his friends yelling at him simultaneously.

However, it looked to be too late. The fireball hit directly in front of Marcus before he had a chance to react and a great explosion rocked the arena...

Lorelei sat there, shaking.

 _"There was so much power behind that fireball!"_ she thought. _"Is this merely a glimpse of the power that belongs to a Shieldhide?!"_

"Oh no, he's done for," whimpered Ron. "So, Charlie was right all along. The American Shieldhide does exist, and it happen to be the one dragon Marcus has to get past. Oh, Marcus is going to die."

Lorelei looked at him, feeling furious all over. Hermione must've felt the same thing, because Hermione scolded, " _Ron!_ How can you say that?!"

"There's a reason why the American Shieldhide was called 'The Victory Dragon'!" Ron responded, sounding quite delirious. "In all the battles and wars they were involved in history, that species of dragon never lost once! Marcus is as good as gone!"

Watching smoke going all over Marcus' side of the arena, Lorelei said in a soft voice, "You're wrong."

Knowing all surrounding eyes were on her, she continued in a normal voice, "Marcus Williams is not the type of man to throw in the towel and simply give up. He pushes himself beyond his limits to better himself, and while he doesn't seek challenge, he welcomes it when it's in his face. He would rather do everything it takes to win in the face of adversity than simply walk away with defeat. In short, Marcus Williams -"

At that moment, Lorelei, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Michael, and Brynn saw the white-clad Marcus walk out of the smoke, not even harmed in the slightest.

"- is a warrior," Lorelei finished.

* * *

Marcus, with his vision enhanced, looked at his adversary, the great American Shieldhide and knew that this would be one of the most difficult challenges in his whole life. He knew this, knew that it was very possible that he would not come out of it alive, but something about this sparked every cell in his body in excitement. His senses were, once again, out of whack, but he welcomed it this time. It seemed to give him a sharper sense of focus, and that's what he needed.

 **"Is that all you've got?"** Marcus said to the dragon, taunting her.

The dragon, hearing this statement, narrowed her eyes of pure gold menacingly, as if she couldn't believe this human standing in front of her would have the audacity to say such a thing. She reared her head towards the sky and roared.

The roar was such that Marcus thought, from the moment the dragon started roaring, his brain was going to explode from sheer pain. The dragon's roar was high-pitch, it boomed, and it seemed to reverberate from around, through, and inside him. It took every ounce of sheer willpower not to cover his ears, to stand his ground and face the dragon.

Which proved to be the right decision.

Marcus saw the dragon roaring, looking to the sky, but he also saw a sillouette of the dragon's right fist going through his head at speeds he didn't think was possible.

Terrified, he moved his body as quick as he could to the left and found himself missing the dragon's right fist by less than an inch from the left side of the hood on his cloak. As he heard the fist pound right into the flame pillars, suffering a bit from the whiplash of the wind from the punch, his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

 _"That move was so fast, it was almost instantaneous!"_ Marcus thought in horror. _"Shit! Time to go!"_

Seeing the perch, he took off, running as fast as he could.

However, sillouettes of the Shieldhide kept appearing at different parts of the arena, in different attack positions that looked the most disadvantageous to him.

 _"Dammit!"_ thought Marcus. _"Just how fast is this damn dragon?!_

Running to the egg felt more like the worst obstacle course in the world, despite being a straight path. Even seeing the sillouettes beforehand, it took Marcus all it had just to avoid taking a direct hit from the Shieldhide.

After the tenth dodge, Marcus was fed up. He summoned his wand, gripped it, pointed it at his chest, and said, _"Eximo!"_

He took off at his fastest potential speed, having his natural inhibitors removed. The sillouettes were disappearing one by one quickly, until he couldn't see anymore.

 _"Awesome!"_ thought Marcus. _"Only forty more feet until I get the egg!"_

Marcus could hear the excitement coming from the crowd, but he didn't focus on it. He was only ten more feet away -

Then he heard the dragon roar from behind.

Something unbelievable happened the moment the dragon roared her high-pitch booming roar: When the roar started, his Limit Release spell was no longer in effect, and he was going much slower than before.

"What the -?"

He didn't have time to wonder what happened as he focused back to the egg and saw the Shieldhide off the ground, slightly on his right side, and she was -

 _"What the hell, she's grinning?!"_ thought Marcus in horror.

He then saw the sillouette of her rounded tail only an inch away from his face and instinctively put his armguards up to his face for defense.

To say he got hit by a wrecking ball would be a massive understatement as he got sent flying at speeds that he didn't think was possible. He kept hitting the ground like a skipping stone, flipping in every direction possible before he landed back first into a set of fire pillars on the complete opposite of the perch, yelling in pain from the sudden impact.

However, he didn't begin to slide down as he felt himself getting pinned down where he impacted the fire pillars.

He looked to see that the dragon somehow covered the arena in no time at all, holding him on the wall with her left clawed hand.

 **"What will you do now, boy?"** said the dragon, clearing goading him with a familiar smirk on her face...

* * *

"Did you see that?!" Ron said, clearly out of his mind. "We couldn't even see the Shieldhide move around! Just what the hell are they playing at, letting that dragon be in this tournament?!"

"They didn't," said Harry, who looked like he was hit with a ton of bricks.

Lorelei looked to him and said, "Harry, what are you talking about?"

Harry, deciding that telling them was the best thing to do in this moment, brought Ron, Hermione, and Lorelei close so that no one else could hear before continuing, "Don't tell anyone else this, but the other night, I managed to get a sneak peek of the dragons for the first task. One of the dragons was a Swedish Short-Snout. All I managed to see and hear was an absolute terror of a roar, purple fire, and a lot of screaming. By the time I could make out anything, the Swedish Short-Snout had been decimated - no, annihilated."

"What the hell?!" Ron squeaked. "What could've done that?!"

"It must've been the Shieldhide, the roar we heard from the dragon just now was identical to the one I heard that night," Harry said, looking quite terrified.

"If the Shieldhide is capable of such feats, how come Marcus is still alive?" Hermione asked, who looked on the verge of tears.

Lorelei looked to the dragon pinning down Marcus and said, "Because the dragon's testing him."

"Very astute observation," she heard Mr. Williams said from behind, who looked as if he just returned. "Regardless, Marcus is going to have to figure out something, he's not left with many options."

"Huh?" said the four of them simultaneously.

"The fire pillars erected around the arena are not just for show," said Mrs. Williams, who looked deadly serious as she was sitting back down alongside Mr. Williams. "They act as a gauge for both combatants' life force. If you'll notice the white pillar flames, or Marcus' gauge, in this case -"

The four of them looked to a white pillar Mrs. Williams pointed to, and Lorelei saw that -

"It's been nearly halved!" Hermione squealed in fright.

"Marcus, what will you do?" Lorelei asked, her voice full of worry.

Almost as if he heard her question, Lorelei heard Marcus yell, "I WILL WIN! _Averte Statum Maxima!"_

Suddenly, the Shieldhide was blasted back, though not very far, just around fifty feet. Marcus then pushed himself off the wall and landed on his feet, though he staggered a bit.

She then heard Marcus yell, " _Fumos!"_ all the while twirling in a circle, leaving a sphere of black smoke.

The Shieldhide tried to get closer to Marcus, but upon getting within proximity of the black smoke sphere, the dragon recoiled, covering its nostrils. The dragon then extended its wings, and flapped them forward with such force that the resulting wind cleared the black smoke away.

Suddenly, Lorelei saw Marcus darting around the dragon's left side, making the dragon go after him. Marcus dodged every attempt to slow him down for about fifteen seconds.

However, out of nowhere, the dragon spoke again in Drakon before suddenly standing right in front of the perch with the golden egg, once again making a sinister smile, something that Lorelei thought for sure she'd seen somewhere before...

The dragon roared its terrifying roar, causing Lorelei to cover her ears, but she was still able to keep her eyes on the arena. She saw that Marcus suddenly appeared close to the perch while the other Marcus disappeared.

"Good Lord!" yelled Bagman, sounding quite beside himself. "Young Marcus Williams - incredible as it seems - used both the Disillusionment Charm and the Duplication Spell to his advantage! Simply marvelous!"

However, as Lorelei took a quick glance around the stands, she noticed that Mr. Bagman was one of the few that was still upbeat. No doubt, she noticed, that the majority of the spectators realized just how intense and deadly this "duel" was turning out to be...

"That was Marcus' greatest strategy," said Lorelei, whose voice sounded quite hollow. "And it failed miserably. What will he do now?"

"Something good, I hope," said Hermione, who noticed that Harry and Ron were lost for words, too terrified to do anything but watch this match unfold before their eyes...

* * *

Marcus, standing smack dab in the middle of the arena, was fuming at his luck. Using the smokescreen to cast one Duplication of himself and then casting himself with the Disillusionment Charm was, for lack of a better term, genius. If it had been any other dragon, Marcus knew for sure he'd have the egg by now. But, as he looked at the dragon, with her eyes of pure gold, he knew something else about this dragon was off, besides her absurd capabilities.

" _Guess it's time for that strategy,"_ thought Marcus grimly.

 **(Music: Forze Del Male - Kingdom Hearts)**

He then let go of his wand, which shot back up his left arm sleeve, and started to get angry. Angry at his predicament, angry at being stuck in a tournament he didn't want any part of, and angry at the Dark Prince for screwing up his life.

He saw the little red balls around him gather at the palm of his hands and, just when he couldn't contain him anywhere, he gave out a great yell, to act as one last push as flames appeared in his hands.

" _That's it!"_ said Marcus, glad that it worked. _"Now, I just have to continue gathering the red balls of energy around me using my anger as the medium, and I might just win this yet!"_

He was then got off guard by the dragon, who was chuckling in amusement.

" **Well, this is a surprise,"** said the dragon. **"You want to play that way? All right, then, let's do it!"**

Marcus was then taken by surprise even more when he saw the dragon opening her palms, after which purple flames immediately appeared.

" _What the hell?!"_ thought Marcus. _"What the hell is up with this dragon?! No matter! Let's do it!"_

Marcus then spent the next minute or so darting around the arena, all the while firing off fireballs from the palm of his hands, but he saw, to his great dismay, that not only was the dragon stopping his fireballs, but she wasn't moving from her spot in front of the perch, making it impossible to get any closer.

" _Dammit!"_ thought Marcus angrily. _"I just need to reach her!"_

Suddenly, he felt the fire in his right palm extend far behind him, to which the dragon hadn't even noticed.

" _All right, then!"_ Marcus thought, not looking a gift horse in the mouth. _"Let's see how you like THIS!"_

Marcus then whipped the extended fire around until the tip was close to the dragon's left side of the face. Then, with as much force as he could muster, he brought the extended fire back in the same direction he brought it down in so that the tip whiplashed fiercely across the dragon's face.

The Shieldhide recoiled, caught by surprise, after which she looked at Marcus with newfound anger and rage. She roared her same terrifying roar, followed by relentlessly blasting Marcus with purple fire from her palms.

He was pushed back to where the entrance was, which was somehow open now, and he formed his last available option.

" _Sorry, Lorelei, but I'm going to go ahead with this last strategy,"_ thought Marcus, feeling desperate. _"I've got nothing else that could possibly work."_

He yelled, _"Fumos!"_ , once again twirling in a circle to create a black smokescreen sphere, this time being bigger than the last.

" _Let's see how you deal with this surprise!"_ thought Marcus with relish.

* * *

"The smokescreen sphere again?" said Hermione, sounding confused. "What does he hope to accomplish?"

Lorelei found herself asking the same question, as she didn't know what Marcus was going to do next. So did the dragon, it seemed, as the Shieldhide stood there with the head slightly tilted to the side.

However, for Lorelei, that question was answered with she heard an all-too familiar animalistic roar coming from the smoke.

"Oh, no," gasped Lorelei. "He couldn't possibly -"

Her jaw then dropped to see that Marcus was riding atop Leo, who Lorelei knew Marcus manipulated using the Duplication Spell, and both of which were heading straight at the Shieldhide.

She heard the Shieldhide roar, but it wasn't the confident, ear-covering roar. It was a more terrified roar, like what the Shieldhide was seeing was about the worst thing possible. Nonetheless, the Shieldhide came at them, but it wasn't the impressive speed, it was very hesitant, questioning its every move.

It was very effective, as Marcus got off his Animagus counterpart and started blasting fire from his wand while Leo fearlessly attacked the Shieldhide. It was suprising to see that the Shieldhide wasn't attacking, as the dragon was being very defensive, merely allowing Leo to attack. She saw Marcus taking off for the golden egg, the crowd finally started cheering, something that hadn't happen since the dragon first entered the arena. Leo cut off the Shieldhide from Marcus' path to the golden egg, but that was the fatal mistake.

As big as Leo was, which was impressive to begin with, apparently the Shieldhide was having none of it. Having enough of the situation, the Shieldhide grabbed Leo and threw him at the entrance point, after which the Shieldhide stopped Marcus short of the perch once again, the Shieldhide punching Marcus to where Leo was laying, despite Marcus absorbing the punch with his armguards.

Looking well spent, Marcus put up another smokescreen sphere around him and Leo, to which the Shieldhide used its wings to blast away the smoke, but the smokescreen was up long enough for Marcus to be alone, for no one to get suspicious of the fact that he was an Animagus.

Lorelei looked at the nearest white fire pillar, which in reality was nothing more than a kindling flame, barely flickering on the ground.

Lorelei looked at Marcus, wondering what was going to happen next...

Marcus, on bended knee, was clean out of options, and he knew it. He was beaten, exhausted, and had no idea how to get past the Shieldhide and get the golden egg. The Shieldhide's legendary feats were not lies, and he was the poor sap to be the first opponent of the Shieldhide in nearly seven centuries. He was truly terrified, something he hadn't felt since the Basilisk in his second year, but this was more like an unpassable wall, something that was blocking his every action.

And the Shieldhide knew it.

" **You're at the end of your rope, boy,"** said the dragon. **"You have no more tricks, no more strategies. I wonder who will be the first to die."**

The dragon seemed to be giving him an impenetrable stare, one that he couldn't break away. Thoughts of Lorelei seemed to be swimming in his mind, though he had no idea why.

" **Ah, yes, of course,"** said the Shieldhide, sounding very amused. **"Lorelei Flamel, was it? Interesting, very interesting."**

Marcus started shaking in terror as he saw the Shieldhide gaze over to where Lorelei was sitting, which he could see with his enhanced vision.

" **Well, well, this is quite a condundrum,"** said the Shieldhide, as if she was thinking heavily. She turned her attention back to Marcus. **"What do you think, boy? Shall I beat her to death with my tail and eat her raw?"**

She slammed her tail into the arena ground, causing the ground to shake violently for a few seconds before calming down.

" **Or shall I roast her alive and eat her well done?!"** she roared as she looked to the heavens, spouting purple flames into the air no less than fifty feet.

Suddenly, Marcus felt great shaking all over, but it was something he couldn't explain. He kept seeing vivid images of Lorelei getting beaten to death by the Shieldhide tail, getting roasted alive by purple flames, and getting eaten by the giant, black shadow dog from his dreams.

He felt the fear, but it was getting eclipsed by anger, anger and rage the likes of which was reaching new and dangerous heights, but he didn't care. All he cared about was that Lorelei's life was in serious danger.

" _No!"_ thought Marcus. _"NO! THIS WILL NOT HAPPEN! I WILL NOT LET LORELEI DIE TO THIS SHIELDHIDE! I WILL_ _ **PROTECT HER**_ _!"_

Suddenly, he heard something very bizarre and rather startling: the snapping of a chain.

All too quickly, Marcus found himself plunging into darkness, falling deeper and deeper into the abyss...

* * *

Brynn saw that Marcus, who was previously holding his head, suddenly drooped, fell limp where he stood.

"What's going on?" asked Michael. "Why is he limp?"

"I don't know," said Brynn, but she had an uneasy feeling creeping up her spine.

She heard the dragon laugh and say, **"Well, it looks like I've had my fun! Time to end this!"**

The dragon went from the perch to being in front of Marcus in virtually no time at all. She laughed in victory as she rocketed her right fist directly at Marcus.

Which faltered the moment a sound echoed throughout the arena.

 _CLANG!_

Brynn was on pins and needles as he saw her son standing upright again, but something was very wrong, as she heard a very deep, very maddening growl.

She then saw the hand and the arm that Marcus used to block the punch to grab the right arm, flinging the dragon around a few times before letting the dragon go, sending her flying to the other side of the arena, to which she collided with the wall rather hard.

The Shieldhide landed on her feet, much surprised, and said, **"What the -? I had you down and out! What is the meaning of this?! Who are you?!"**

Lorelei saw that Marcus reached up to the brim of his hood with his right hand and slowly pull it back from his head. What she saw terrified her.

She was looking at what appeared to be Marcus, but there was something very wrong with his demeanor. She saw that his eyes had turned to their pure gold state, his white hair was sticking out in every which direction, like it turned absolutely wild, save for two tufts of hair that formed his face, which was contorted to what appeared to be a painful, unbridled rage. But the thing that terrified Lorelei the most was his presence. She didn't know how or why she felt this way, but she felt that she wasn't looking at Marcus anymore. She felt that she was looking at something far more powerful...and terrifying.

A deep, confident voice most unlike Marcus' then spoke up, "I...am a warrior...and I will not let you TAKE - HER - FROM - _ME_!"

At his last word, the person that seemed to be Marcus looked to the sky and roared, but it was _not_ a human roar. This roar was deep, it was booming, and it seemed to reverberate around, through, and inside her.

At the same time, the white fire kindlings suddenly roared back to life, spiraling back up to the height they were at before the duel started, and it looked like it wasn't going to quit anytime soon.

She had to hold her hands to her ears to stifle the noise as much as possible, but she found herself shaking all over as she thought, _"Marcus Williams...you can't possibly -?!"_

* * *

Brynn was terrified. She didn't think it would get to this point. How was any of this possible?

She didn't have time to ponder that as she suddenly saw Marcus taking off, running at incredible speeds, much faster than before, and running straight at the Shieldhide.

" **Let's go, 'warrior',"** said the Shieldhide, who burst forward right at her opponent.

Brynn knew no one but her was keeping up with their moves, so blurred that they were. Even the way her son was now, it was still hopeless. The Shieldhide out in the arena had way too much experience and talent, and she knew the Shieldhide was taking it easy on Marcus the entire match. Still, she watched as, twenty seconds into their struggle, they locked hands and started attempting to push the other one back.

" **You're at your limit, boy,"** the Shieldhide told Marcus, who was starting to lose ground. **"You cannot go any further."**

She heard Marcus emit a dangerously scary growl as he slipped from her grasp, yelled out, "EXIMO!" while holding his wand to his chest.

"THEN WATCH ME AS I TAKE YOU BY _SURPRISE_!" yelled the deep, confident voice of her son.

Suddenly, he was on the Shieldhide's back, grabbing the biceps of the dragon's arms. With a mighty yell and all the force he could muster, he yanked the arms backwards, which made a series of painful snaps.

The crowd gasped in horror, but she was still able to hear the grunt of the Shieldhide. She knew the dragon was doing her best to mask any weakness, despite having dislocated shoulders and broken arms.

" **I've found what I've been seeking,"** the Shieldhide said as her son started running for the perch. **"This duel is over."**

* * *

Lorelei saw that, as he was crossing the threshold of the perch, the flame pillars surrounding the arena suddenly dissapated, the Shieldhide merely turned around to watch.

She saw Marcus grab the golden egg, and the whole crowed erupted into an intense cheer the likes of which was better than the other champions combined. Marcus had somehow done it! He won! He got the golden egg!

However, it was short-lived as she saw Marcus whip back around, egg under his right arm, and started running at the Shieldhide with that same terrifying demeanor and rage. She knew that Marcus was lost in this newfound rage. His focus was only on the dragon, nothing else applied to him.

Then, no matter what else happened in her life, she would never be able to explain what happened next.

Mrs. Williams was suddenly in the arena, grabbing the Shieldhide by the throat and jumped the threshold of the arena and outside of it, to a location that she didn't know about. Then, Mr. Williams and Professor Dumbledore were standing side-by-side where the Shieldhide was previously standing, wands in hand and pointed them directly at the rampaging Marcus barreling towards them.

Suddenly, Marcus was stopped, he looked to be in intense pain, but was still menacingly growling, desperately trying to push forward, no doubt to get his hands on that Shieldhide.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't stand by and watch Marcus suffer anymore.

She leapt down into the arena, using the wall to push off to land safely before pointing her wand to her chest and said, _"Eximo!"_ She started barreling at Marcus, who was completely unaware that she was coming.

She closed the distance rather fast and tackled Marcus straight into the ground.

She was doing her best to hold him down, to try and bring him back to his senses. But, even with her Limit Release Spell active, it took every fiber of her being to hold him down, it was that much of a struggle.

"Marcus!" Lorelei yelled while struggling to contain him. "Marcus, it's over! You've won, the dragon's gone. Come back to us, to me, please!"

She saw the head of Marcus whipping around to see her but, as soon as he saw her, something changed. The eyes of pure gold gave way until Lorelei could see his normal, ocean blue eyes. His hair returned to its natural hairstyle, and he seemed to be looking at her with a confused expression on his face.

"Lore...lei..." was all he could say before he fainted in her arms, leaving her lifting the Limit Release Spell on herself.

Before she could do anything else, she saw Mr. Williams grabbing Marcus, pulling him into his arms while feeling for vitals.

She saw the expression on Mr. Williams face turn grim as he said, "It's as I feared. Between natural fatigue from the match and extended use of the Limit Release Spell, his body couldn't handle all that stress. His body's starting to shut down."

Lorelei clapped her hands over her mouth in horror.

"Keep the tournament going as planned, Dumbledore," she heard Mr. Williams say, who sounded like he was barely able to keep it together. "Determine Marcus' score for the first task, inform the other champions of their next task, and dismiss the students. I'll bar the Hospital Wing from all people with the exception of a few."

Suddenly, Mr. Williams took off for the castle faster than she could see.

Dumbledore helped Lorelei up, who was still feeling heavily distraught, and said to her, "Do not worry for Marcus, Ms. Flamel. He is in good hands, of that I can assure you."

As he made his way back to the other judges, Lorelei saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione running over to her.

"Lorelei, what happened?!" said Harry. "Where'd Marcus go?!"

Unable to speak, she flung herself at Hermione and started crying, bawling her eyes out. Hermione embraced her, all the while allowing her own tears to flow freely down her face. Harry and Ron, unable to contain their own tears, looked at each other with sorrow and worry, worry of their best friend, Marcus...

* * *

Michael stood beside his son's bed, watching Madam Pomfrey trying her best to stabilize Marcus' condition, but it wasn't working. He was powerless, forced to watch his only son slip slowly away from him, forever.

He heard Brynn bursting into the Hospital Wing, asking Michael, "Michael, what's his condition?! Will he make it?!"

He looked at her and said, "Brynn, it's..it's not looking good at all. Madam Pomfrey...she's trying her best, but...we...we may be too late."

He saw Brynn starting to cry as she practically yelled, "No, Michael! Don't say that! We can't lose him! Not our only son! Not like this!"

He watched her fall to her knees on the Hospital Wing floor as she continued, "Please, I don't want to lose him!"

Suddenly, Michael heard the Hospital Wing doors burst open, and Michael saw that a young woman, with raven hair, purple eyes, and a curvy figure wearing a scaly black dress coming into the Hospital Wing, a look of determination on her tan face.

Michael saw Brynn looking and, upon seeing the raven-haired woman, growled and said, "What the _hell_ are you -?!"

"We don't have much time," said the woman, pushing Madam Pomfrey aside. "Brynn, the barbary lion fang, now!"

"You honestly think -!"

"Brynn!" exclaimed the woman, looking at Brynn with a fierce anger. "He's going to die if we don't do something, and I'm the only one who could do anything. But, for that, I need your barbary lion fang! So hand it over now!"

Michael felt heavily confused as he watched Brynn quickly removing a necklace that had a barbary lion fang attached to it and threw it at the woman.

The woman grabbed it with her right hand, used the tip of the fang to cut her left palm open, craned Marcus' mouth open, and balled her left hand into a fist, positioning it over Marcus' mouth.

Michael watched as drops of blood went into his son's mouth, one right after the other. After the seventh drop, the woman put her left hand to her side, all the while tossing the fang back to Brynn.

"There, it's already starting to take effect," said the woman. "The boy will be just fine."

"What just happened?" asked a confused Michael.

The raven-haired woman looked to Brynn, who were at the same height and said, "My, my, Brynn, you didn't even let him know _this_ much? Why, that's just rude!"

Michael noticed that the mannerisms she was speaking in came across as brash and arrogant, like she was better than everyone else.

The raven-haired woman looked to Michael and said, "I've allowed a one-time only special ability transfer in my seven drops of blood to the boy, which will disappear once complete recovery has been assured." She looked to Marcus with a weird sort of smirk as she continued, "But, even with that added in as a factor, it'll still take some time. About a few hours, give or take. I'm impressed. The boy did rather well."

She looked back at Brynn and said, "I'll be looking foward to a proper introduction upon the boy waking up, _Brynn_ , say...the headmaster's office?"

Brynn didn't say anything to the woman except growl at her.

"Then, it's settled," said the raven-haired woman with that same demeanor. "I'll be seeing all of us there, then, after I've taken care of a few...tasks."

Upon her exiting from the Hospital Wing, Michael saw that Madam Pomfrey was so flustered, the only thing she could do was go to her office and close the door from behind her.

"What was _that_ all about?" asked Michael, who felt just as flustered as Madame Pomfrey.

"I don't want to talk about it," Brynn replied in a dangerously low tone. "Let's just bar off the Hospital Wing until Marcus wakes up and wait in Dumbledore's office. We'll take it from there."

* * *

Ron, Hermione, and Lorelei were walking up to Gryffindor Tower, feeling quite down after leaving Harry at the library so that he could gather himself. Under normal circumstances, they would be celebrating the end of the first task, talking amongst each other, wondering what in store for the next task. But, their hearts were still heavy, thinking about what could possibly be going on with Marcus at the moment.

When the three of them reached the Fat Lady, Lorelei said the password half-heartedly. The portrait opened and the three of them walked in to see that almost everyone in the Gryffindor House was in the common room, sitting there in silence.

Fred Weasley was the first to see the three of them enter the common room and said, "Ron! Hermione! Lorelei! You're all here!"

Lorelei looked to see that Fred was in front of them, looking from one face to another, saying, "Hey...where's the old geezer?"

"We...we don't know where he is," said Lorelei in a hollow voice. "The last time I saw him, his father ran off with Marcus in his arms. I don't have an idea where they went off to."

"There's a rumor the old geezer's in the Hospital Wing," said George, looking quite forlorn. "And that he..."

"Don't finish that sentence!" said Ron, looking quite beside himself. "Don't you dare finish that sentence!"

"Ron!" said Percy, coming towards the group. "There's no need for that!"

"Sorry," he said, looking toward the ground. "It's just, I've treated him so bad over a misunderstanding, you know? And the last thing he must've thought about me must've...must've been..."

"Marcus will come around," said Lorelei, who was doing her best to pull herself together while Hermione was comforting Ron, who started sobbing. "He has to."

The rest of the Gryffindors had nothing to say, as they were all hoping for the same outcome...

* * *

As if waking up from a long nap, it was a struggle just to open one eyelid. As soon as he got the other one open, Marcus Williams saw that he was in the Hospital Wing. He then felt completely sore all over, like he was being weighed down.

He looked around until he saw Dumbledore sitting in a chair on the right with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"How are you feeling, Marcus?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore," said Marcus, who tried to sit up and succeeded, but it was an absolute struggle to do so. "Ugh, what - what happened?"

"You completed your first task as a Hogwarts champion, Marcus," said Professor Dumbledore.

"But - but, how?" he asked, looking quite confused. "The last thing I remember is the dragon threatening to kill Lorelei and - well, I don't remember the rest."

"You don't...remember anything after that?"

"No," said Marcus with finality.

"I see," said Professor Dumbledore, sounding troubled. "Well, Marcus, what we need to focus on is that you succeeded, and that we are needed elsewhere."

"Elsewhere?" asked Marcus, heavily confused. "Where?"

"All will be explained in due time," said Professor Dumbledore. "I'll lead the way, and perhaps it would be best if you were to cast your ever so masterful Disillusionment Charm, Marcus."

It was a struggle just to get up from the hospital bed, as he still felt sore all over, but as he was casting the Disillusionment Charm on himself, he said, "Yeah, I guess my ability to cast the Disillusionment Charm is no longer a secret, huh?"

"I'm afraid not, Marcus," said Professor Dumbledore, who was standing on Marcus' right side. "However, you were left with no other choice. You did perform rather admirably, given what you were up against."

Once the spell took full effect and they started walking, Marcus made sure there was no one else around before asking, "So, what was my score?"

"In the end, you received thirty-five points, young Mr. Williams," stated Professor Dumbledore. "Which puts you in third place."

Marcus hid his disappointment and said, "I can see why I got that score. I got damaged during the match and didn't give my full focus towards getting the golden egg."

"Mr. Bagman will be waiting for you in the entrance hall once we take care of our...urgent errand," explained Dumbledore. "He'll be giving you your next set of instructions for the Triwizard Tournament, as you were not present before."

"Oh, right," said Marcus.

"You'll find that Blinky took the liberty of putting your golden egg in the trunk at the end of your bed, along with your excellent battle suit," said Dumbledore with a twinkle to his eye.

Marcus looked at himself to find that he was in his comfortable Muggle clothes and said, "Wow, this is really confusing. So, about this - er - urgent errand?"

"It is, quite frankly, too complicated to explain," said Dumbledore, who smile did not reach his eyes as the two of them reached the gargoyle blocking his office. _"Lemon Drop."_

The gargoyle sprang aside, revealing the staircase that went up to the office door. Dumbledore gestured to Marcus to go first and, as Marcus went up the stairs and went towards the door, he had no idea what was going on, but he had a feeling it wasn't good.

He entered the office and saw that his parents were standing on the left hand side of the desk, both of whom looked rather tense and impatient. Marcus' suspicions went through the roof just looking at his parents.

"Well, are all of us here?" asked Michael.

"I'm afraid not," said Dumbledore. "We're still waiting on our guest."

"Of course that stuck-up would make us wait!" said Brynn angrily, startling Marcus. "We should've banished it the moment it crossed the threshold!"

Suddenly, Marcus heard a rather sultry, yet harsh voice say from behind him, "Surely, after all this time, you could at least offer a more civilized greeting."

Marcus turned around to see something rather strange.

Standing in front of a door was a woman that stood around his mom's height, only she had raven hair that went to her waistline, purple eyes, very tan skin, and an hourglass figure that would shame most women. She carried herself in a way that came across as brash or arrogant, but Marcus had a feeling this way of posture was not without merit. Something about this rather beautiful woman seemed very familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it...

She was wearing what appeared to be dragon skin all over, mostly black, but her scaly shirt was abnormally white, like his hair.

"What the -?" was all Marcus could say.

"Perhaps introductions are in order?" Dumbledore said, trying to get things going.

"That wench doesn't deserve introductions," said Brynn harshly. "She deserves the boot off of the grounds!"

"Oh, goodness, I didn't think it was going to be this bad," said the scale-covered beauty with a cocky smirk on her face. "Well, I guess I'll introduce myself then. I'm -"

"Shut your mouth, I'll do it!" said Brynn, moving to stand by Marcus' right side. She gestured to the woman and said, "Well, Marcus, this is Esmeralda. She is - well, um..."

"She's...what?" asked Marcus.

"Come on, Brynn, you know I prefer to go by Em," said the woman, who looked greatly irritated. "And I take it you are her son, boy?"

"Um, yes," said Marcus, feeling greatly uncomfortable. "I'm Marcus, Marcus Williams."

"Huh," said the woman named Em. "Not bad for a human name, I guess."

"What?"

"Esmeralda," said Brynn angrily through gritted teeth.

"Oh, pipe down, Brynn," said Em with a wagging finger. "Just making observation is all. Well, since no one's bringing it up, I'm your mom's sister, so that would make me your aunt."

"Huh?!" said a startled Marcus who looked at his Mom and said, "But how?! You told me all your family died before I was born!"

"Really, _that's_ the story you went with?" said Em, who looked further irritated.

"It's better than knowing about _that_!" yelled Brynn.

"Apparently not," said Em, who was starting to get into Brynn's face. "Based on his performance in the first task, he's bound to discover it eventually."

"Discover what?" asked Marcus.

However, he was ignored as Brynn responded, "There's no reason to go through with this bullshit, Em!" She looked to Dumbledore and said, "Dumbledore, she needs to be escorted off the premises, now!"

"Now, Brynn," said Dumbledore, who seemed a little on edge himself. "Despite whatever you may feel towards her, she does bring up a valid argument. After what happened earlier today, we can no longer try to hide it from Marcus."

"Hide what from me?" asked Marcus, starting to get irritated.

"Would you prefer to tell him, or shall I do the honors?" asked Em with a cocky grin on her face.

"TELL ME WHAT?!" yelled Marcus, unable to contain himself anymore.

The woman named Em looked at Marcus with that same grin and said, "You're a fiesty one when pushed, huh? Comes pretty naturally, I take it? No surprise, since you're -"

"NO!" said Brynn, trying to block Marcus from her sight. "DON'T YOU DARE TELL HIM!"

Michael, who hadn't said anything, grabbed Brynn, holding her back from Em, who sported an angry look, all the while saying, "Yeah, you can just go ahead and go fuck yourself."

She then looked at Marcus with a straight face and said in a raised voice, "Marcus Williams, you are a dragon!"

To say he felt bamboozled would be putting it lightly, as Em's proclamation echoed in his mind.

"What?" said a shocked Marcus.

"That's right!" said Em with that same cocky grin. "And not just any dragon, either! You are an American Shieldhide!"

After a minute, Marcus said, "You must be out of your freaking mind! Just what part of me is a dragon?! Does any of _this_ -" he gestured to himself "- look anything like a dragon?!"

"Oh, holy shit," said Em, who facepalmed herself. She looked at Brynn, who was fighting her tears, and said, "Does he not know _anything_?!"

"Hey, I know a lot of things, thank you very much!" Marcus retorted. "I do quite well for myself!"

"I meant your heritage, boy!" Em said to Marcus. "Your lineage, the pure and powerful bloodline that flows through your veins!"

"I am a member of the distinguished Williams family," said Marcus through gritted teeth. "Success through hard work is always prominent in the family."

"Wow, just wow," said Em, who looked thoroughly distraught and mostly talking to herself. "I'll have to start from the top and go from there." She then looked back at Marcus and said, "If you're going to deny your _true_ heritage, then I'll just list off all the proof."

"You don't have anything to prove your crazy statement," said Marcus.

"All right, then, let's start with that enhanced vision you covet so much," said Em, who looked serious. "You believe it to be a form of vision enhancement, and that is basically true. However, what you're really doing each time you 'enhance your vision' is bringing forth a portion of your _true_ sight, the inherent ocular marvels that are the eyes of the American Shieldhide, able to pierce through all lies and reveals to us the truth of all things. I believe the vision you refer as 'Negative Vision' is only a step down from said ocular attributes."

"But Mom said that only rulers and nobles had that gift," said Marcus, who was very disbelieving. "That's how Mom and I got mine."

"Well, your mother wasn't wrong, but we'll get to that in a minute," said Em, who looked very crossed with the situation. "For now, I'll bring up your ability to talk to dragons, or the language of Drakon."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Only dragons can talk to each other in the language of Drakon, boy," stated Em. "And, although each species of dragons has their own dialect, the American Shieldhide's dialect is the most advanced. When you were talking in Drakon earlier today, your dialect was a direct match to the dialect of the American Shieldhide, though I doubt you pick up on it, considering you only hear the English language when speaking to a dragon."

"But that doesn't prove anything!" said Marcus. "Languages can be learned, just like anything else."

"You really did a number on him, didn't you, 'Brynn'?" said Em, looking at Brynn and looking quite agitated.

"It's not my fault," said Brynn. "He just has nothing to connect the dots, that's all."

"You can't be serious, Mom!" said Marcus, looking angry himself. "This woman is a complete psycho, calling me a dragon and all!"

"Oh, so you mean to tell me that your current state of muscle compression and bone hardening is a natural process in humans, then?" said Em with a wicked grin on her face. She had a look of triumph in her eyes that irritated Marcus.

"What?!" said Brynn, who looked at Marcus and said, "Marcus Williams, is this true?!"

"Wait, what are you guys talking about?" asked Marcus.

"Well, simply put, no matter how much muscle you gain through eating and workout plans, you don't seem to gain a single pound," stated Em. "And, if I had to take a wild stab in the dark, you've haven't suffered any injuried since before summer."

"Wait, you're right," said a shocked Marcus. "I've been trying to bulk up since before summer, but I've instead been getting skinnier!"

"And your senses?" said Em with a hungry look in her eyes.

"They started going out of whack at different, short timeframes since the summer!" said Marcus.

"So, the maturation process has already began, then!" said Em, who seemed quite pleased. She looked to Brynn once again and said, "And you thought you were going to pass this off as human puberty? Give me a break!"

"The processes are nearly identical!" said Brynn.

"But not identical enough," said Em, who looked to Marcus and said, "I don't have the time to thoroughly discuss the ins and outs of the American Shieldhide anatomy, but what I can tell you is that, once the maturation process begins, the muscles take in the natural energy that surrounds us and uses it to compress itself, all the while creating new fibers of muscle over the compressed muscle. This process allows us to be smaller, faster, and lighter on our feet, all the while retaining our astounding strength. It's the epitome of physical greatness, harnessed over centuries of hard work and natural experiments. So, really, you've been getting both stronger and faster without realizing it. And, as far as your sense go, they're not going out of whack, they're getting much sharper. The senses of an average, mature American Shieldhide are the same as a human maximizing the potential of a Supersensory Charm and multiplying that by three."

"Wait, so this is only going to get _worse_?!" asked a freaked out Marcus.

"Not _worse_ , you idiot, _better_!" scolded Em. "Though, if you don't undergo training to harness your sharpened sense, that could pose a problem. But, at least you won't have to worry about dying to poisons or anything involving digestion! The immunity and digestive systems of a Shieldhide is really superb, always working together to ensure that we don't die internally from anything we may eat or drink! The only thing it won't tolerate without a verification test is -"

"Potions," gasped Marcus, clapping his mouth.

"Wait," said Michael, who, up to this point, was keeping silent. "When, where, and why?"

"Second year at Hogwarts, Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, trying to sneak into the Slytherin Common Room," gasped Marcus. "My body completely rejected the Polyjuice Potion without hesitation!"

"Luckily, there's a simple solution for that," stated Em. "Just prick any of the digits on your hands until a drop of blood falls into your desired potion. If it dilutes into the potion harmlessly, then it's safe to drink, as that acts as a sort of - er - 'screening'. If it doesn't, it will horribly react with the potion until there's nothing left. Either way, it's a win-win!"

"I can't believe this!" said Marcus, holding his head in mental agony. "I cannot and will not believe myself to be a dragon! I'm a human! A messed-up, twisted human, and nothing more!"

"This is getting absolutely stupid!" yelled Em as she approached Marcus, her right hand outstretched.

"MARCUS, DON'T LET HER TOUCH YOU!" yelled Brynn.

Marcus looked up and saw that Em's right palm touched his forehead and, suddenly, he found himself surrounded in darkness.

"Well, that's better," said Em with a grin on her face. As she was standing in front of Marcus, who was looking at her in disbelief, Em said, "I'll tell you this little tale, just so that there isn't any doubts as to what you truly are."

Em coughed to clear her throat and said, "Once we made our way to the western part of the world all those centuries ago, it was clear that, on top of improving our physical and magical conditions, we had to adapt and thrive in a constant-changing world. To do that, we had to find the stable factor that's directly linked into the constant changing of the world. Do you know what that factor is, Marcus?"

Marcus shook his head vigorously.

"Humans, boy, humans," stated Em. "We knew we couldn't just go walking around as dragons and expect to survive, to ensure the continued success of the kingdom."

"Kingdom?" asked Marcus.

"The Shieldhides all maintain a feudal system that governs the rest of the dragons, but that's for another time," said Em dismissively. "Anyway, so to ensure our continued success, we undertook a most necessary project, a project that, after four centuries of trial and error, extensive studying, and field runs, we have perfected."

"What...what project was that?"

"To assume the form of a human, of course," stated Em.

Marcus, floored with such a statement, said, "Is this why no one's been able to find an American Shieldhide in nearly seven centuries?!"

"Mostly," said Em with a serious face. "It also explains why you don't believe yourself as a dragon."

"How?"

"Now, I'm not saying I know how exactly it was able to work, but from what I can tell, when your mother brought you into this world, she kept herself in human form up to the point of conceiving you, thus restricting you to your human form. On top of that, herself and your father both cast a medley of complex spells to essentially isolate everything that makes a Shieldhide...well, a Shieldhide. This is who you _truly_ are."

Marcus saw that Em was pointing behind him. He turned around and saw-

"The dragon from my dreams?!" exasperated Marcus.

"Oh, saw you _have_ seen your true self already," Em said.

"It only showed up when this giant, golden-eyed, sharp-fanged shadow dog did around summertime."

"The Grim, huh?" said Em, looking at the dragon.

"Yes," said Marcus begrudgingly. "I realize that the Shieldhide I faced this afternoon was what The Grim was referring to. I did almost die, after all."

"Oh, please, it's not like _I_ did anything to put you in mortal danger," Em said dismissively. "You put yourself in that situation. Although, if you hadn't done the things you did, I don't think I would've let you get that golden egg."

Marcus whipped his head in Em's direction and growled, "You're telling me _you're_ that Shieldhide I faced against in the first task?!"

Em looked at the boy with an evil grin on her face and, suddenly, her purple eyes were replaced by a pure gold that covered the entirety of her eyes.

Also quite suddenly, a silouette of the same dragon Marcus fought in the first task appeared directly around her, giving the impression that they indeed were one and the same.

"Do you believe me now, boy?" said Em in a rhetoric manner.

"I..I don't know what to say..."

Marcus looked at Em, who was looking at the dragon in chains with a surprised expression on her face.

"What?"

"Are...are those horns gold?!" asked a surprised Em.

Marcus looked upon the dragon in chains and said, "Yeah, they are. I'm sure it's not a big deal."

But he wasn't so sure of that, not after seeing the shocked look on her face.

Before he knew it, he found himself back in Dumbledore's office and felt a rather big headache coming on.

Suddenly, he heard Em roar at his mom, " _HOW DARE YOU KEEP THIS INFORMATION FROM YOUR OWN KIND, YOU WENCH!"_

Marcus looked to see his mom yelling back, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!"

"THE BOY'S HORNS!" yelled Em. "THE BOY'S HORNS ARE PURE GOLD!"

"WHAT?!" cried his mom, who turned to Marcus and said, "Is what she's saying true?!"

"It is," said a worried Marcus.

"Well, I'm just finding this out the same time you are!" yelled his mom, looking at Em.

"BULLSHIT!" said Em, whose eyes were entirely gold now. "HOW WOULD YOU NOT KNOW THAT ABOUT YOUR OWN SON?! I HAVE HALF A MIND TO BEAT YOU INTO THE GROUND!"

Marcus then started to get freaked out as he saw something he never saw before: His mom suddenly had eyes of gold, as well as sporting a look of rage and fury that made him want to get to the other side of the world in an instant. His mom's fist were clenched as she roared, "WELL, IF THAT'S HOW YOU FEEL, THEN GET READY TO DIE!"

Suddenly, he heard a powerful voice yell, "THAT IS ENOUGH!"

Marcus turned to the source of the voice to find Professor Dumbledore, his wand outstretched at Esmeralda. Marcus saw that the look Professor Dumbledore had on his face was more terrible than he could imagine. As Professor Dumbledore was staring down Esmeralda, he saw no benign smile upon the headmaster's face, nor could he spot any sort of twinkle in the eyes behind the spectacles. There was cold fury in every line of the ancient face; a sense of power radiated from Dumbledore as though he were giving off burning heat.

Marcus also saw that his father had his wand outstretched to Esmeralda as well, looking just as scary, if not scarier, than Dumbledore was.

"You harm one hair on my wife, and I will end you here and now," said Michael, sounding menacing and darker than he ever heard from his father before.

Em, despite looking quite furious, said, "Well, well. Consider me impressed. To think I actually had to hesitate. If any other humans tried what you two just did, they would be dead."

She put herself in a battle stance as she was yelling at his mom, but now she was standing upright and saying, "I'll escort the boy to the entrance hall. We have a few more things to discuss."

"Now, wait just a -" Brynn began.

"You, Michael, and myself will finish this conversation at Hogwart's border gate," said Em, leading a bewildered Marcus out of the office. "Dumbledore, I extend my thanks for your hospitality. We'll talk again, of that I'm sure. Marcus, let's get going. You have to find out what your next task will be, after all."

Marcus only saw a glimpse of his parent's pained faces before Em got him out the door and down the staircase.

Once down the staircase, Marcus looked to the raven-haired woman and said, "So, Em -"

"Now, now, that's not the proper way to talk to me," she said, who resumed that cocky half-grin on her face. "I'm your mom's sister, so you should be calling me Aunt Em, understand?"

Marcus felt a little irritation as he said, "Yes, Aunt Em. So, what's the big deal about the golden horns?"

"Remember how I said that the Shieldhides essentially oversee the draconic kingdom?" said Aunt Em.

"Yes," said Marcus hesitantly.

"Well, I'm the head stewardess of the kingdom, as I'm one of the strongest Shieldhides as of this time frame," said Aunt Em with a serious look on her face. "All am I is maintaining it, until the _true_ ruler is revealed. At least, that's the way it's been since the last king."

"And who was the last Draconic King?"

Aunt Em scratched her chin in thought as she said, "Hmm, what was his name? It was a silly name, that much is sure...Oh! I got it! Arthur Pendragon!"

"What?!" asked a startled Marcus. "You mean King Arthur of Camelot?!"

"One and the same," said Aunt Em. "He was the last rightful Draconic King, around the time of Merlin. He was ruling over Camelot as a trial run before he took the reins of the Draconic Kingdom. Before he could take over the reins, however, Merlin had him sent off to the east, never to return. That old fool, he said that the next rightful ruler of the Draconic Kingdom would appear before only when the world needed the ruler the most."

"And...that's it?" asked Marcus.

"Well, there was always one giveaway with rightful draconic rulers," said Aunt Em, still sporting a serious look. "The rightful draconic king's horn would be pure gold."

"Oh, well, that's -!" Marcus started to say before his eyes grew wide and said, "WAIT, WHAT?!"

"Yeah, that's how I feel," said Aunt Em. She then resumed that cocky half-grin and said, "Well, since I already verified your true form, boy, I would say you're just what the Kingdom's been looking for. Granted, you're a Shieldhide in title only right now, but we can easily fix that, given extensive Shieldhide training."

"But, this is too much!" said Marcus, heavily panting.

"Sorry, boy, that's just how it is," said Aunt Em, who didn't look sorry at all. "Can't help the hand you've been dealt with. Say, boy, can I verify something with you?"

"Only after I've verified something with you," said Marcus.

"Oh?" said Aunt Em, looking highly amused. "What is it?"

"The ones organizing the first task specifically got nesting mother dragon, so as to ensure that getting the golden eggs would be an actual challenge," Marcus stated. "However, I saw no eggs on that perch other than the golden egg."

"Ah, but I _was_ a nesting mother during the fight," said Aunt Em. "In fact, I hatched my third dragon child, my first daughter, which would make her your third cousin."

"Seriously?!" said Marcus.

"Seriously," said Aunt Em with a sort of genuine smile. However, it was quite brief as she said, "I won't go explaining the details, we simply don't have time for that. And, now, it's my turn. What enabled you to do well during our duel?"

"What do you mean?" said Marcus.

"What I mean is that something, some possible ability, must've enabled you to do as well as you did against me. Otherwise, you would've been finished in less than a minute."

Marcus drooped his eyelids a little as he replied, "When my vision is enhanced, and when I'm battling, I see a silouette of what my opponent will be doing before they actually do it."

"Then your ability is True Sight," she said, looking vastly impressed. "A rare gift amongst the Shieldhide."

"What?" said Marcus, caught off guard.

"Each Shieldhide gets an inherent ability at random," explained Aunt Em. "Some get further physical enhancement, others get good ones, like weather manipulation. Having True Sight is an S-Class ability that has to go through strenous training to hone that ability. Well, I think that's all the time we'll have for now. We've made it to the entrance hall."

Marcus looked to see that Aunt Em was saying the truth: They were standing on top of the marble staircase overlooking the entrance hall. He also saw Mr. Bagman standing in front of the great oak doors, fidgiting with his fingers.

However, upon seeing Marcus, he got an excited look on his face and jovially said, "Marcus, my dear boy, down here!"

"Let's go," said Marcus.

Upon reaching Mr. Bagman, the man said, "Well, Marcus, I'm glad to see that you're still okay. You gave us quite the scare there, I have to admit."

"My instructions for the second task, please," said Marcus, not wanting to talk much at this point.

"Right, right," said Mr. Bagman. "Firstly, congratulations on making it past the first task! Now, you've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth - but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! The next chance you get to examine your golden egg, you'll see that it'll be able to open as it has hinges. You'll need to solve the clue inside the egg - because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! Now, any questions?"

"None," said Marcus, sounding deadly serious.

"Well, then, I'd best be on my way," said Mr. Bagman, who gave Aunt Em a daring glance.

As Mr. Bagman was leaving the entrance hall, Marcus looked to Aunt Em, who had what he surmised to be her usual irritatingly cocky half grin on her face as she said, "Ooh, the second task looks to be quite a doozy! You'll have your work cut out for you this time, boy!"

"Wait, you already know what's going to happen?!" said Marcus.

"Of course I do," said Aunt Em with her same look on her face. "I'm quite informed. Not that I'm going to tell you anything about it. You have to live up to the Shieldhide reputation and figure it out yourself! Anything less than first, and I'll personally oversee your execution. Farewell, boy!"

As he watched his Aunt Em leaving the entrance hall, chuckling, a great portion of Marcus was glad to be rid of her. The other part of him, however, wanted to ask all sorts of questions about what he was told tonight. There was just too much to take in, after all...

"Marcus!" said a familiar voice. "Marcus!"

Marcus looked behind him to find Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lorelei standing at the feet of the marble staircase, all of them looking relieved and happy.

As the four of them approached Marcus, the white-haired boy said, "Oh, wow! All of you are here! How come -?!"

Marcus didn't get to finish his sentence as Ron suddenly gave him a hug out of nowhere.

"Ron?!" asked a startled Marcus.

"I'm so sorry!" said Ron, who sounded a bit distraught. "I treated you so badly up to the first task, and you could've died, and the last thing you might've remembered about me was - was -"

Ron fell silent, not being able to finish his sentence. Marcus, who did have a look of worry on his face, slowly put a smirk on his face and said, "Ron, you don't have to worry anymore. All is well."

As Ron released him, having a silly smile on his face, Hermione looked at him and said, "Come on, let's get to the library! I'm sure Sirius'll want to hear from both of his godsons, won't he?"

Marcus looked at Harry and said, "Yeah, can't let that worrisome godfather of ours go crazy, now, can we?"

"Definitely not," said Harry with a smirk of his own. "Can't imagine what'd he do otherwise."

As the five of them made their way to the Library, Marcus' smirk faded away from his face. How in the world was he going to tell his friends everything he just discovered about himself? Even as they made their way in the Library, getting the necessary materials to write a letter to Sirius, Marcus couldn't think of an answer...

* * *

As the Dark Prince was finishing with his latest strength training workout, drying himself off from his shower, he still found himself trembling all over. Watching Marcus taking on the American Shieldhide brought forth more than he bargained for. Having seen what he surmised to be a portion of Marcus' potential did not bring him fear. No, it brought forth excitement, so much so that, long after the task was done, he was still shaking all over in anticipation for the day _he_ could fight Marcus like that, something he knew was still very far away.

A voice then said behind the Dark Prince, "My Prince, I've brought the person here, as you requested."

The Dark Prince turned around to see his cloaked servant along with the requested person, the same person who carried out his task in the American Ministry's Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures.

"Ah, excellent," said The Dark Prince, changing into his primary attire. "You may go, servant."

The hooded servant Disapparated with a _pop_ , leaving only the Dark Prince and his insider.

Once he finished getting dressed, he looked to his insider and said with a smirk, "Well, I'd say you performed your role flawlessly, wouldn't you say?"

His insider was looking at the ground, unable to say anything.

The Dark Prince then made a scroll of parchment appear from thin air, grasped it with his right hand, and gestured it to his insider saying, "As your reward, you'll find fifty thousand Galleons have been deposited in your Gringotts vault. Follow the instructions listed on this roll of parchment, and you, along with five generations of your family, will never have to worry about financial problems again."

"Just tell me one thing," said the insider.

"Oh? And what would that be?" said the Dark Prince, amused.

The insider then held up what he recognized to be _The Daily Prophet_ , on the front cover being a moving picture of the American Shieldhide in mid-roar, along with Marcus Williams facing the dragon.

"What's Marcus Williams to you?" the insider asked him.

In response, The Dark Prince took the newsletter, gave the insider the roll of parchment, and was looking at the article before simply saying, mostly to himself, "Hmm, I wonder..."

The Dark Prince then looked over his shoulder and said to the insider, "And don't presume to deviate from the instructions on the parchment. If you do, I will found out. Now, leave, and pray we never meet again."

The insider then Disapparted, leaving the Dark Prince all alone.

"What will you do _now_ , young Mr. Williams?" he said out loud, making a fist with his right hand before he summoned pitch black Dark Energy around it, swirling violently as the Dark Prince's chuckles echoed in the empty building...

 **And this concludes this exciting chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please don't hesitate to leave a review on this story, as that'll help me become a better writer. Also, if you wanted to ask me any questions, simply leave me a PM and I will, to the best of my ability, answer those questions. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	22. (22) A Close Call

**Welcome, one and all, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! First, I must apologize to each and every one of you. I have severely neglected to post updates on this story and did not make any new progress with the series in general. Though work had kept me extremely busy these past few months, with them sending me overseas being a big part of it, the main reason would be me letting the lethargic part of me winning over my determination to see this series to the end. My goal for the immediate future is to post the remaining chapters of this story before I do leave to go overseas. I can at least do this much. This is not the end of the series, not by a long shot. I'm way too invested in the series, both mentally and emotionally, to let it end earlier than it is meant to. I just hope that all of you understand that it'll simply take longer than anticipated, that's all.**

 **Now, with all of that out of the way, let's get to the chapter. Before that, however...**

 **Disclaimer: Yeah, no surprise, no ownership of HP, save for OCs**

 **Now, let's get into...**

Chapter 22: A Close Call

 **Happy reading, dear readers!**

Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went up to the Owlery not long after meeting together in the Entrance Hall to find Pidwidgeon, so that Marcus and Harry could send their letters telling him that they had managed to get past their dragons unscathed or, in Marcus' case, staying alive. On the way, Marcus and Harry filled Ron in on everything Sirius had told them about Karkaroff. Though shocked at first to hear that Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, by the time they entered the Owlery Ron was saying that they ought to have suspected it all along.

"Fits, doesn't it?" he said. "Remember what Malfoy said on the train, about his dad beings friends with Karkaroff? Now we knw where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup... I'll tell you one thing though, guys, if it _was_ Karkaroff who put your names in the goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now, isn't he? Didn't work, did it? Harry, you only got a scratch! And Marcus, you managed to succeed against a Shieldhide! Come here - I'll do it -"

Pidwidgeon was so overexcited at the idea of a delivery he was flying around and around Marcus and Harry's heads, hooting incessantly. Ron snatched Pigwidgeon out of the air and held him still while Marcus and Harry attached their letters to his legs.

"There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous, how could they be?" Ron went on as he carried Pigwidgeon to the window."You know what? I reckon the two of you can win this tournament, guys, I'm serious."

Marcus and Harry glanced at each other with smirks on their faces. The two boys knew that Ron was only saying this to make up for his behavior of the last few weeks, but they appreciated it all the same. Hermione, however, leaned against the Owlery wall, folded her arms, and frowned at Ron.

"Both Marcus and Harry have got a long way to go before they finish this tournament," she said seriously. "If that was the first task, I hate to think what's coming next."

"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" said Ron. "You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime."

"To be honest, I feel a bit better about taking on this tournament after facing that Shieldhide," said Marcus.

Ron then threw Pigwidgeon out of the window. Pigwidgeon plummeted twelve feet before managing to pull himself back up again; the letters attached to his legs were much longer and heavier than usual. Try as they might, Marcus and Harry couldn't resist giving Sirius their blow-by-blow accounts of exactly how they had went about accomplishing the first task. They watched Pigwidgeon disappear into the darkness, and then Ron said, "Well, we'd better get downstairs for your surprise party, boys - Fred and George should have nicked enough food from the kitchens by now."

Sure enough , when they entered the Gryffindor common room it exploded with cheers and yells again. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster's Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean Thomas, who was very good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harry zooming around the Horntail's head on his Firebolt and Marcus exchaning fists with the Shieldhide, though a couple showed Fleur with her dress on fire.

As Marcus helped himself to some food, bringing it back with him to sit with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lorelei, he felt a mixture of emotions. He was glad that the first task was behind him, no longer having to worry about getting past dragons. He also felt a bit worried that the other two tasks before him might be just as challenging as the first. However, the most prominent of these feelings was emptiness.

He knew for a fact that he, as he knew himself, did not succeed in winning against his Aunt Em, who everyone else knew as a Shieldhide Dragon. If it wasn't for her letting him win, he would've lost not only the first task, but possibly his life. Marcus knew that his success in the First Task was really nothing more than a hollow victory, that if he didn't double his efforts into bettering himself, he wasn't going to make any true progress.

"Blimey, this is heavy," said Lee Jordan, picking up the golden egg that Harry left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. "Open it, Harry, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!"

"Both him and Marcus have to work the clue on their own," Hermione said swiftly. "It's in the tournament rules..."

"Yeah, Hermione's right," said Marcus. "I suppose it's for the best that we don't open the egg, since we do have to work out the clues ourselves."

"Like how you worked out your first task strategies by yourself?" Lorelei rhetorically whispered in Marcus' right ear, causing him to give a guilty half-smile.

"Yeah, go on, open it!" several people echoed.

Lee passed Harry the egg, and Harry dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and prised it open.

Marcus enhanced his vision in time to see a couple of sillouetted spheres popping before getting blasted by the most horrible of noises, a loud and screechy wailing that filled the room. The closest thing he could compare it to was his Aunt Em's draconic roar, which was not comforting, to say the least.

"Shut it!" Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears.

"What was that?" said Seamus Finnigan, staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. "Sounded like a banshee...Maybe you two have to get past one of those next, boys!"

"It was someone beeing tortured!" said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. "You two are going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," said George. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing...maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Marcus and Harry."

"Want a jam tart, Hermione?" sadi Fred.

Hermoine looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. Fred grinned.

"It's all right," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch -"

Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed.

"Just my little joke, Neville..."

Hermione took a jam tart. Then she said, "Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?"

"Yep," said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. "'Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!' They're dead helpful...get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish."

"How do you get in there?" Hermione said in an innoncently casual sort of voice.

"Easy," said Fred, "concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and-" He stopped and looked suspiciously at her. "Why?"

"Nothing," said Hermione quickly.

"Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?" said George. "Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?"

Several people chortled. Hermione didn't answer.

"Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" said Fred warningly. "You'll put them off their cooking!"

Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary.

"Oh - sorry, Neville!" Fred shouted over all the laughter. "I forgot - it _was_ the custard creams we hexed -"

Within a minute, however, Neville had molted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely noral. He even joined in laughing.

"Canary Creams!" Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. "George and I invented them - seven Sickles each, a bargain!"

It was not long after that did Marcus bid his closest friends good night and went ahead to his four-poster bed, full of worry about what he had to do, both in his self-training and getting prepeard for the second task.

Just as he pushed away the drapes on his four-poster, he noticed a big book with an envelope addressed to him in writing that he wasn't familiar with.

Just to be sure no one was eavesdropping, he sat down on his bed, pulled the drapes back to where they were before, and he proceeded to open the envelope and read the contents to himself.

 _Marcus,_

 _Enclosed in this book is the basics of what you should be working on until the next time we meet. If you're going to be ruling the Draconic Kingdom someday, you sure as hell better be playing catch-up with the standard Shieldhide training. It's not the full training, but it'll suffice. Consider this your one pass._

 _-Aunt Em_

Marcus took a glance at the book, as big as it was, and exasperately thought, _"Just what exactly is in that book for training purposes?!"_

He decided that he'll have to look at it tomorrow. After putting the book under his bed, he turned over and went to sleep, wondering what the next day would bring...

* * *

After classes the next day, before his evening workout with Lorelei and Cedric, Marcus decided to go to his seclusion spot, which was a hard to reach spot by the lake, but upon reaching that spot, was all worth it.

Looking at the lake and part of the castle, Marcus was deep in thought, most of his thoughts not as cheerful as he liked. There were a lot of things that have been said to him and had happened to him over the last few days, much of which was rather overwhelming.

He was so lost in thought that it utterly surprised him to hear a familiar voice say, "Ah, Mar-kees, zou like zis spot too?"

Marcus looked up and to the right to find Fleur Delacour, arms slightly behind her, behind down towards him a little bit with a smile upon her face.

He relaxed a little and said, **"Ah, Ms. Delacour. What brings you out here?"**

She took a seat on the right of him with a slight frown on her face and said, " **Goodness, Mar-kees! I insist you call me Fleur."**

"Right, right, I'll make sure to do so in the future," Marcus said with a slight smirk. "So, what does bring you out here?"

Fleur took a long sigh and said, "I needed a break from everything, I guess. Ze tournament, my classmates, just take some time to myself. But I deedn't think I'd find you out here, of all places!"

"Yeah, I needed some time away from everything, as well. So much has happened, after all."

"I am zure that finding out about your heritage was not an easy thing to acknowledge," stated Fleur.

Marcus looked at her with apprehension and asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, Mar-kees, about finding out that you are an American Sheeldhide dragon, of course," said Fleur with a serious face.

Marcus blanched, his face starting to cover with sweat.

"How the fuck do you know?" growled Marcus. "I haven't told anyone that, not even to my closest friends!"

 **"You didn't need to,"** stated Fleur. **"As someone who has Veela blood running in their veins, I could tell that you were a Shieldhide dragon during the First Task. Veela remain one of the few species in the world that can immediately tell when a Shieldhide is roaming about. The two species have - er - quite the history. Although, as I'm only quarter Veela, I could only tell you were one at the later end of your run of the First Task."**

Fluer must have known what Marcus was feeling, for she continued, **"Do not worry, Mar-kees. I will not tell a single person of this."**

Marcus heard the sincerity in her voice, calmed down, and replied, "Thank you, Fleur. To be honest, I still can't wrap my head around it. It seems so - so impossible, yet all of the facts are there right in front of me..."

Fleur then looked him in the eyes and said, "Do you remember what our favorite game was, all those years ago?"

"Oh, of course, it was twenty questions!" Marcus exclaimed, feeling a bit nostalgic and smirking at the thought. "I remember we picked up the game from a group of Muggle kids, and we just couldn't stop playing that game afterwards."

Fleur gave her own smirk and said, "Want to play it again, for old times sake?"

"You bet," Marcus said with a smile. "Ladies first."

"Favorite color?"

"Black," Marcus replied. "Favorite season?"

"Spring, of course," stated Fluer with a smile.

For the next fifteen minutes, they kept shooting questions at each other, each question giving Marcus more and more nostalgic of his time in Paris.

 **"Ah, I've got a good question here,"** said Marcus. **"Who's your role model?"**

 **"Ah, of course, it must be none other than the Musketeer Maiden,"** replied Fleur with admiration.

 **"The Musketeer Maiden,"** Marcus repeated, thinking about it. **"Ah, isn't that the person who's the French Ministress of Magic's sole bodyguard?"**

 **"Oh, Mar-kees, she is much more than a simple bodyguard to Her Excellancy,"** Fleur implored. **"She is the youngest lady to have ever earned the privelage of assuming the role at age seventeen! She is also an excellent witch with an amazing arsenal of magic knowledge at her disposal and has even mastered the art of the rapier, hence her title. She's only one of two known people in the world to have earned the title of -"**

 **"Battleknight,"** said Marcus, remembering who she was now and was impressed.

 **"Oh, you're familiar with the title?"** asked Fleur.

 **"Of course,"** Marcus responded. **"In the days of Merlin, all warriors from every walk of life aspired to earn the right to bear the title of Battleknight. Every warrior who was ever managed to earn the title went on to accomplish legendary feats. Siegfried, Xiang Yu, Melankomas, the list going on and on. Of course, my role model is the other person of two who has earned that title in recent history."**

 **"You mean to say that - ?!"**

 **"Yes,"** said Marcus with admiration. **"My role model is the Powerhouse Paladin."**

 **"Isn't he just a wandering swordsman?"** Fleur asked.

 **"He's more than a wandering swordsman!"** Marcus adamantly stated. **"He's beaten hordes of dangerous monsters, saved countless towns and villages, stopped an avalanche, and even held up an entire mountain during one of his fights, all without breaking a sweat! Well, he does work as a sort of mercenary, but people in the U.S. really look up to him and his work is heard all around the Wizarding World. The American Ministry of Magic's requested him for crazily huge tasks that no else can do numerous times! It's my dream to face him head on and come out victorious,"** Marcus added with a bit of wonder and awe in his voice.

 **"Who do you think would emerge victorious if they were to face one another?"** Fleur asked.

 **"Good question,"** Marcus stated, having to think about it. **"I don't really know. It's odd that they've never encountered the other, but there might be a reason for that. Oh, right, my turn to ask a question! What's your most ideal feature from a potential significant other?"**

 **"Why, Mar-kees, that question is easy,"** Fleur said with a sly smirk, **"A kind and courageous heart underneath a stubborn exterior."**

Marcus felt a slight blush creeping on his face as he said, "All right, I've asked my last question, Fleur. Now it's time for your last question."

Fluer put her left index finger to her left temple, looking as if she was deep in thought. Suddenly, she put her left hand over Marcus' right ear and whispered, "Are you ready for our promeese?"

Upon hearing this question, Marcus suddenly felt his face getting full-on flushed and looked Fleur in the eyes, who looked as if she wasn't joking around.

"I - I don't have an answer for that yet, Fleur," said Marcus, who was still feeling quite flushed.

"That's okay," said Fluer, who was still slyly smirking. "I just thought I'd say that I'm ready when you are."

With that, Fleur blew a kiss his way before standing up and leaving the area, leaving Marcus more confused than when Fleur had initally arrived.

* * *

The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. Drafty though the castle always was in winter, Marcus counted his blessings whenever he saw the Durmstrang ship on the lake, reminding him of Hogwart's fires and thick walls. The ship in question was pitching in the high winds, its black sails billowing against the dark skies. Marcus also thought that the Beauxbatons caravan was not much better off. Hagrid, much to Marcus' dismay, was keeping Madame Maxime's horses well provided with their preferred drink of single-malt whiskey. Consequently, the fumes wafting from the trough in the corner of their paddock was enough to make the entire Care of Magical Creatures class light-headed, Marcus especially. Not only was this unhelpful to him, as his heightened senses made the effects much worse, but the rest of the class were still tending the horrible skrewts and needed their wits about them.

"I'm not sure whether they hibernate or not," Hagrid told the shivering class in the windy pumpkin patch next lesson. "Thought we'd jus' try an' see if they fancied a kip... we'll jus' settle 'em down in these boxes..."

There were now only ten skrewts left; apparently their desire to kill one another had not been exercised out of them. Each of them were now approaching six feet in length. Their thick gray armor; their powerful, scuttling legs; their fire-blasting ends; their stings and their suckers, combined to make the skrewts the most repulsive things Marcus had ever seen. The class looked dispiritedly at the enormous boxes Hagrid had brought out, all lined with pillows and fluffy blankets.

"We'll jus' lead 'em in here," Hagrid said, "an' put the lids on, and we'll see what happens."

But the skrewts, as it so happened, did _not_ hibernate, and did not appreciate being forced into pillow-lined boxes and nailed in. Hagrid was soon yelling, "Don' panic, now, don' panic!" while the skrewts rampaged around the pumpkin patch, now strewn with the smoldering wreckage of the boxes. Most of the class - Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in the lead - had fled into Hagrid's cabin through the back door and barricaded themselves in; Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, were among those who remained outside trying to help Hagrid. Together they managed to restrain and tie up nine of the skrewts, though it took Marcus utilizing everything he acquired in his training to avoid the numerous cuts and burns that plagued his friends. Finally, only one skrewt remained loose.

"Don' frighten him, now!" Hagrid shouted as Ron and Harry used their wands to shoot jets of fiery sparks at the skrewt while the skrewt was menacingly advancing on Marcus, its sting arched, quivering, over its back. "Jus' try an' slip the rope 'round his sting, so he won' hurt any o' the others!"

"Yeah, we wouldn't want that!" Ron shouted angrily as he and Harry were suddenly backed into the wall of Hagrid's cabin after the skrewt suddenly decided to go after the two of them.

Marcus, who noticed in time, said, "All right, enough of this!" Out of nowhere, Marcus crossed what distance was between him and the skrewt, grabbed one of its legs and, before the skrewt could do anything, lifted the skrewt in the air and slammed it onto the ground that dazed the creature.

Before the skrewt could do anything else, Hagrid launched forward on top of the skrewt and flattened it; a blast of fire shot out of its end, withering the pumpkin plants nearby.

Marcus, feeling quite irate, said, "Yeah, let's _never_ get these skrewts out ever again."

"Well, well, well... that _certainly_ looked fun."

Marcus turned his head to the source of the voice to find Rita Skeeter leaning on Hagrid's fence, looking at them. She was wearing a thick magenta cloak with a furry purple collar today, and her crocodile-skin handbag was over her arm.

"You know what? I change my mind," said Marcus loudly enough so that Skeeter could hear him. "Can we get the skrewts back out? I'd much rather deal with them."

Harry and Ron started to snicker while Rita Skeeter gave Marcus a brief, but cross, look at him.

"Who're you?" Hagrid asked Rita Skeeter as he slipped a loop of rope around the skrewt's sting and tightened it.

"Rita Skeeter, _Daily Prophet_ reporter," Rita replied, suddenly beaming at Hagrid. Her gold teeth glinted.

"Of the gossip column," mumbled Marcus.

This remark earned a cold glare from Skeeter, which looked awfully scary considering she was still smiling.

"Thought Dumbledore said you weren' allowed inside the school anymore," said Hagrid, frowning slightly as he got off the slightly squashed skrewt and started tugging it over to its fellows.

Rita acted as though she hadn't heard what Hagrid had said.

"What are these fascinating creatures called?" she asked, beaming still more widely.

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," grunted Hagrid.

"Really?" said Rita, apparently full of lively interest. "I've never heard of them before...where do they come from?"

Marcus was about to say something when Hagrid's hairy face sported a dull red flush and his heart dropped a bit. Where _had_ Hagrid got the skrewts from?

Hermione, who seemed to be thinking along those lines, said quickly, "They're very interesting, aren't they? Aren't they, Marcus and Harry?"

"What?" they said at the same time.

"Oh, yeah. Yes, interesting," said Marcus.

"Yeah...ouch...interesting," said Harry as Hermione stepped on his foot.

"Ah, _you're_ here, boys!" said Rita Skeeter as she looked around, which made Marcus roll his eyes. "So you two like Care of Magical Creatures, do you? One of your favorite lessons?"

"Yes," said the two boys stoutly. Hagrid beamed at them.

"Lovely," said Rita. "Really lovely. Been teaching long?" she added to Hagrid.

"This is o'ny me second year," said Hagrid.

"Lovely...I don't suppose you'd like to give an interview, would you? Share some of your experience of magical creatures? The _Prophet_ does a zoological column every Wednesday, as I'm sure you know. We could feature these - er - Bang-Ended Scoots."

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," Hagrid said eagerly. "Er - yeah, why not?"

Marcus had a very bad feeling about this setup, but as there wasn't a way to tell Hagrid without Rita Skeeter knowing about it, so he had to stand and watch in silence as Hagrid and the horrid reporter making arrangements to meet in the Three Broomsticks for a good long interview later that week. Then the bell rang up at the castle, signaling the end of the lesson.

"Well, good-bye, Marcus, Harry!" Rita Skeeter called merrily to them as they set off with Ron and Hermione. "Until Friday night, then, Hagrid!"

"She'll twist everything he says," Harry said under her breath.

"Of course she will, that's what she enjoys doing," said Marcus with gritted teeth.

"Just as long as he didn't import those skrewts illegally or anything," said Hermione desperately. They looked at one another - it was exactly the sort of thing Hagrid might do.

"Hagrid's been in loads of trouble before, and Dumbledore's never sacked him," said Ron consolingly. "Worst that can happen is Hagrid'll have to get rid of the skrewts. Sorry...did I say worst? I meant best."

Marcus, Harry, and Hermione laughed and, feeling slightly more cheerful, went off to lunch.

Marcus was far more tolerant of double Divinations that afternoon than he had been in weeks, despite continuing to do star charts and predictions, due to him and Harry having patched things up with Ron, making the whole thing seemed rather funny again. Professor Trelawney, who had been so pleased with Harry and Ron's horrific death predicitions, quickly became irritated as they sniggered through her explanation of the various ways in which Pluto could disrupt everyday life, leaving Marcus with his usual half-smirk of enjoyment on his face.

"I would _think_ ," she said, in a mystical whisper that did not conceal her obvious annoyance,"that _some_ of us" - she stared very meaningfully at Harry - "might be a little less _frivolous_ had they seen what I seen during my crystal gazing last night. As I sat here, absorbed in my needlework, the urge to consult the orb overpowered me, I arose, I settled myself before it, and I gazed into its crystalline depths...and what do you think I saw gazing back at me?"

"An ugly old bat in outsize specs?" Ron muttered under his breath.

Marcus and Harry fought hard to keep their faces straight.

" _Death_ , my dears."

Parvati and Lavender both put their hands over their mouths, looking horrified.

"Yes," said Professor Trelawney, nodding impressively, "it comes, ever closer, it circles overhead like a vulture, every lower...ever lower over the castle..."

She stared pointedly at Harry, who yawned very widely and obviously.

"It'd be a bit more impressive if she hadn't done it about eighty times before," Harry said as they finally regained the fresh air of the staircase beneath Professor Trelawney's room. "But if I'd dropped dead every time she's told me I'm going to, I'd be a medical miracle."

"You'd be a sort of extra-concentrated ghost," said Ron, chortling, as they passed the Bloody Baron going in the opposite direction, his wide eyes staring sinisterly.

"Well, at least we didn't get homework," said Marcus. "One less thing we'll have to do tonight."

"I hope Hermione got loads off Professor Vector," said Ron with a grin on his face. "I love not working when she is..."

However, Hermione wasn't to be seen at dinner, nor was she in the library when they went to look for her afterward. To Marcus' dismay, the only person in there was Viktor Krum. Ron proceeded to hover behind the bookshelves for a while, watching Krum, debating in whispers with Marcus and Harry whether he should ask for an autograph - but then Ron realized that six or seven girls were lurking in the next row of books, debating exactly the same thing, and he lost his enthusiasm for the idea.

"Wonder where she's got to?" Ron said as he, Marcus, and Harry went back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Dunno," said Harry. "Balderdash."

But the Fat Lady had barely begun to swing forward when the sound of racing feet behind them accounced Hermione's arrival.

"Harry!" she panted, skidding to a halt beside him (the Fat Lady stared down at her, eyebrows raised). "Harry, you've got to come - you've _got_ to come, the most amazing thing's happened - please -"

She seized Harry's arm and started to try to drag him back along the corridor.

"Wait, Hermione, what are you doing?" asked a confused Marcus.

"I'll explain when we get there - oh come on, quick -"

Harry looked around to Marcus and Ron; they looked back at Harry, rather intrigued.

"Okay," Harry said, starting off back down the corridor with Hermione, Marcus and Ron trying to keep up with them.

"Oh don't mind me!" the Fat Lady called irritably after them. "Don't apologize for bothering me! I'll just hang here, wide open, until you get back, shall I?"

"Yeah, thanks!" Ron shouted over his shoulder.

"Hermione, where are we going?" Harry asked, after she had led them down through six floors, and started down the marble staircase into the entrance hall.

"You'll see, you'll see in a minute!" said Hermione excitedly.

She turned left at the bottom of the staircase and hurried toward the door through which him and Harry went through the night the Goblet of Fire regurgitated their names. Marcus started to get a bad feeling about what they were doing as they followed Hermione down a flight of stone steps, but instead of ending up in a gloomy underground passage like the one that led to Snape's dungeon, they found themselves in a broad stone corridor, brightly lit with torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that were mainly of food.

"Oh hang on..." said Harry slowly, halfway down the corridor. "Wait a minute, Hermione..."

"What?" She turned around to look at him, anticipation all over her face.

"I know what this is about," said Harry.

He nudged Ron and Marcus, showing them the painting just behind Hermione. It showed a gigantic silver fruit bowl.

"Hermione!" said Ron, cottoning on. "You're trying to rope us into that spew stuff again!"

"No, no, I'm not!" she said hastily. "And it's not _spew_ , Ron -"

"Changed the name, have you?" said Ron, frowning at her. "What are we now, then, the House-Elf Liberation Front? I'm not barging into that kitchen and trying to make them stop work, I'm not doing it -"

"I'm not asking you to!" Hermione said impatiently. "I came down here just now, to talk to them all, and I found - oh come _on_ , Harry, I want to show you!"

Marcus watched as she seized Harry's arm again, pulling him in front of the picture of the giant fruit bowl, stretched out her forefinger, and tickled the huge green pear. It began to squirm, chuckling, and suddenly turned into a large green door handle. Hermione seized it, pulled the door open, and pushed Harry hard in the back, forcing him inside.

Marcus followed inside the place that he was all too familiar with. From the high-ceilinged room with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls to the great brick fireplace at the other end, Marcus had been in the kitchens countless times to check up on Blinky and ensure that the working house-elves gave him the proper meal intake he needed to maximize his training which, on the advice left by his Aunt Em, increased five fold.

However, what truly caught him off guard was something small hurtling toward Harry from the middle of the room, squealing, "Harry Potter, sir! _Harry Potter!_ "

Before Marcus could tell who it was, the small figure ran right into Harry and tightly hugged him so hard that it no doubt knocked the wind out of Harry.

"D-Dobby?" Harry gasped.

"It _is_ Dobby, sir, it is!" squealed the voice from somewhere around Harry's naval. "Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!"

Marcus felt a slight chill creep up his back at realizing that the house elf who bombarded Harry was none other than Dobby. The last time he encountered Dobby, the house elf was trying to save Harry's life from the Heir of Slytherin by committing acts that, if succeeded, would no doubt have killed his bespectacled friend.

His enormous, green, tennis-ball-shaped eyes, which was brimming with tears of happiness, looked at Marcus and he squealed, "Marcus Williams, sir! Dobby is so pleased to hear that Marcus Williams has been doing well since our last encounter, so very pleased indeed!"

 _"Uh-oh, this isn't good,"_ thought Marcus as he with forced cheerfulness, "Yes, Dobby, it's good to see you as well."

Marcus then noticed something small, yet extremely different about Dobby. His features were all the same, from the pencil-shaped nose and the batlike ears to the house-elf's long fingers and feet. The thing that was different about Dobby was his choice of attire.

When Dobby had worked for the Malfoys, he had always worn the same filthy old pillowcase. Now, however, he was wearing the strangest assortment of garments Marcus had ever seen; he had done an even worse job of dressing himself than the wizards at the World Cup, and that was saying something. He was wearing a tea cozy for a hat, on which he had pinned a number of bright badges; a tie patterened with horseshoes over a bare chest, a pair of what looked like children's soccer shorts, and odd socks. One of these, Marcus noticed, was the black one Harry told him about, the same one Harry removed from his own foot and tricked Mr. Malfoy into giving Dobby, thereby setting Dobby free. The other was covered in pink and orange stripes.

"Dobby, what're you doing here?" Harry said in amazement.

"Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!" Dobby squealed excitedly. "Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir!"

"Winky?" asked Marcus, rather surprised. "She's here too?"

"Yes, sir, yes!" said Dobby, and he seized Harry and Marcus' hands and pulled them off into the kitchen between the four long wooden tables that stood there. Each of these tables was positioned exactly beneath the four House tables above in the Great Hall. At the moment, they were clear of food, dinner having finished, but Marcus knew that, not one hour ago, the tables were laden with dishes that were then sent up through the ceiling to their counterparts above.

At least a hundred little elves were standing around the kitchen, beaming, bowing, and curtsying as Dobby led Marcus and Harry past them. Marcus knew that Blinky was in the kitchens somewhere, and the last thing he wanted to have happened is have Ron and Hermione find out that he had a house-elf.

Finally, Dobby stopped in front of the brick fireplace and pointed.

"Winky, sirs!" he said.

Winky was sitting on a stool by the fire. Unlike Dobby, who looked nothing short of a wardrobe disaster, she had obviously not foraged for clothes. She was wearing a neat little skirt and blouse with a matching blue hat, which had holes in it for her large ears. However, while every one of Dobby's strange collection of garments was so clean and well cared for that it looked brand-new, Winky was plainly not taking care of her clothes at all. There were soup stains all down her blouse and a burn in her skirt.

"Hello, Winky," said Harry.

Winky's lip quivered. Then she burst into tears, which spilled out of her great brown eyes and splashed down her front, just as they had done at the Quidditch World Cup.

"Oh dear," said Hermione. She and Ron had followed Marcus, Harry, and Dobby to the end of the kitchen. "Winky, don't cry, please don't..."

But Winky cried harder than ever. Dobby, on the other hand, beamed up at Harry.

"Would Harry Potter and Marcus Williams like a cup of tea?" he squeaked loudly, over Winky's sobs.

"Er - yeah, okay," said Harry.

"I guess it can't hurt," said Marcus.

Instantly, about six house-elves came trotting up behind them, bearing a large silver tray laden with a teapot, cups for the four of them, a milk jub, and a large plate of biscuits.

Marcus saw, to his utter horror, that the house-elf carrying the large silver tray was his own house-elf, Blinky. Hoping that Blinky could read his thoughts, he thought, _"Blinky, after you're done with the tea, go do something else away from the kitchens until my friends and I have left. Consider this an order."_

Unbeknownst to everyone, Blinky made a slight nod, leaving Marcus relieved.

"Good service!" Ron said, in an impressed voice. Hermione frowned at him, but the elves all looked delighted; they bowed very low and retreated, Blinky leaving the kitchens altogether.

"How long have you been here, Dobby?" Harry asked as Dobby handed around the tea.

"Only a week, Harry Potter, sir!" said Dobby happily. "Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir. You see, sir, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult -"

At this, Winky howled even harder, her squashed tomato of a nose dribbling all down her front, thought she made no effort to stem the flow.

"Dobby has traveled has traveled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work!" Dobby squealed. "Dobby thought to ask Blinky for advice as Blinky found success in finding his master!"

"What do you mean, Dobby?" asked Hermione.

Marcus looked at Dobby with a death stare worthy of Professor McGonagall, but Dobby didn't see him, due to him looking at Hermione.

"Well, after Dobby heard that Blinky found -" Dobby started to say.

At that moment, Marcus bent down to Dobby's level and whispered in his ear so that no one else could hear, "If you tell them that I'm Blinky's master, I will personally get you banished from Hogwarts and to a place where the only time you'll see Harry is in your head. Make something else up _now_."

As Marcus stood himself upright, Dobby gave a sort of inaudible tremor before saying, "-found what Blinky was looking for, Dobby decided to try Blinky's strategy. But Dobby hasn't found work, Harry Potter, because Dobby wants paying now!"

The house-elves all around the kitchen, who had been listening and watching with interest, all looked away at these words, as though Dobby had said something rude and embarrassing. Hermione, however, said,"Good for you, Dobby!"

"Thank you, miss!" said Dobby, grinning toothily at her. "But most wizards doesn't want a house-elf who wants paying, miss. 'That's not the point of a house-elf,' they says, and they slammed the door in Dobby's face! Dobby likes work, but he wants to wear clothes and he wants to be paid, Harry Potter...Dobby likes being free!"

The Hogwarts house-elves had now stared edging away from Dobby, as though he were carrying something contagious. Winky, however, remained where she was, though there was a definite increase of her crying.

"And then, Harry Potter,Dobby goes to visit Winky and finds out Winky has been freed too, sir!" said Dobby delightedly.

At this, Winky flung herself foward off her stool and lay face-down on the flagged stone floor, beating her tiny fists upon it and positively screaming with misery. Hermione hastily dropped down to her knees beside her and tried to comfort her, but nothing she said made the slightest difference. Dobby continued with his story, shouting shrilly over Winky's screeches.

"And then Dobby had the idea, Harry Potter, sir! 'Why doesn't Dobby and Winky find work together?' Dobby says. 'Where is there enough work for two house-elves?' says Winky. And Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! _Hogwarts!_ So Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!"

Dobby beamed very brightly, and happy tears welled in his eyes again.

"And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!"

"That's not very much!" Hermione shouted indignantly from the floor, over Winky's continued screaming and fist-beating.

"Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off," said Dobby, suddenly giving a little shiver, as though the prospect of so much leisure and riches were frightening, "but Dobby beat him down, miss...Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he isn't wanting too much, miss, he likes work better."

"And how much is Professor Dumbledore paying _you_ , Winky?" Hermione asked kindly.

If she had thought this would cheer up Winky, she was wildly mistaken. Winky did stop crying, but when she sat up she was glaring at Hermione through her massive brown eyes, her whole face sopping wet and suddenly furious.

"Winky is a disgraced elf, but Winky is not yet getting paid!" she squeaked. "Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is properly ashamed of being freed!"

"Ashamed?" said Hermione blankly. "But - Winky, come on! It's Mr. Crouch who should be ashamed, not you! You didn't do anything wrong, he was really horrible to you -"

But at these words, Winky clapped her hands over the holes in her hat, flattening her ears so that she couldn't hear a word, and screeched, "You is not insulting my master, miss! You is not insulting Mr. Crouch! Mr. Crouch is a good wizard, miss! Mr. Crouch is right to sack bad Winky!"

"Winky is having trouble adjusting, Harry Potter," Marcus heard Dobby sqeaking confidentially. "Winky forgets she is not bound to Mr. Crouch anymore; she is allowed to speak her mind now, but she won't do it."

"Can't house-elves speak their minds about their masters, then?" Harry asked.

"Oh no, sir, no," said Dobby, looking suddenly serious. "'Tis part of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. We keeps their secrets and our silence, sir. We upholds the family's honor, and we never speaks ill of them - though Professor Dumbledore told Dobby he does not insist upon this. Professor Dumbledore said we is free to - to -"

Dobby looked suddenly nervous and beckoned Marcus and Harry closer. The two of them bent forwward, with Dobby whispering, "He said we is free to call him a - a barmy old codger if we likes, sir!"

Dobby gave a frightened sort of giggle.

"But Dobby is not wanting to, Harry Potter," he saaid, talking normally again, and shaking his head so that his ears flapped. "Dobby likes Professor Dumbledore very much, sir, and is proud to keep his secrets and our silence for him."

"But you can say what you like about the Malfoys now?" Harry asked him, grinning.

Marcus, who was slightly amused before, was now quite interested in what Dobby was going to do next.

A slightly fearful look came into Dobby's immense eyes.

"Dobby - Dobby could," he said doubtfully. He squared his small shoulders. "Dobby could tell Harry Potter that his old masters were - were - _bad Dark wizards_!"

Although not surprised, Marcus watched as Dobby stood for a moment, quivering all over, horror-struck by his own daring. Then, he rushed over to the nearest table and began banging his head on it very hard, squealing, _"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"_

Marcus facepalmed himself, grateful that Blinky doesn't punish himself like Dobby does, while Harry seized Dobby by the back of his tie and pullled him away from the table.

"Thank you, Harry Potter, thank you," said Dobby breathlessly, rubbing his head.

"You just need a bit of practice," Harry said.

"A bit?" said Marcus, being quite sarcastic.

As Harry shot Marcus a dirty look, Winky squeaked furiously, "Practice! You is ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dobby, talking that way about your masters!"

"They isn't my masters anymore, Winky!" said Dobby defiantly. "Dobby doesn't care what they think anymore!"

"Oh you is a bad elf, Dobby!" moaned Winky, tears leaking down her face once more. "My poor Mr. Crouch, what is he doing without Winky? He is needing me, he is needing my help! Iis looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother is doing it before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her...oh what is they saying if they knew Winky was freed? Oh the shame, the shame!" She buried her face in her skirt again and bawled.

"Winky," said Hermione firmly, "I'm quite sure Mr. Crouch is getting along perfectly well without you. We've seen him, you know -"

"You is seeing my master?" said Winky breathlessly, raising her tearstained face out of her skirt once more and goggling at Hermione. "You is seeing him here at Hogwarts?"

"Yes," said Hermione," he and Mr. Bagman are judges in the Triwizard Tournament."

"Mr. Bagman comes too?" squeaked Winky, and to Marcus' surprise (and Harry's and Ron's and Hermione's too, based on the looks on their faces), she looked angry again. "Mr. Bagman is a bad wizard! A very bad wizard! My master isn't liking him, oh no, not at all!"

"Bagman - bad?" Marcus asked.

"Oh yes," Winky said, nodding her head furiously. "My master is telling Winky some things! But, Winky is not saying...Winky - Winky keeps her masters' secrets..."

She dissolved yet again in tears; they could hear her sobinng into her skirt, "Poor master, poor master, no Winky to help him no more!"

They couldn't get another sensible word out of Winky. They left her to her crying and finished their tea, while Dobby chatted happily about his life as a free elf and his plans for his wages.

"Dobby is going to buy a sweater next, Harry Potter!" he said happily, pointing at his bare chest.

"Tell you what, Dobby," said Ron, who seemed to have taken a great liking to the elf, "I'll give you the one my mum knits me this Christmas, I always get one from her. You don't mind maroon, do you?"

Doby was delighted.

"We might have to shrink it a bit to fit you," Ron told him, "but it'll go well with you tea cozy."

As they prepared to take their leave, many of the surrounding elves pressed in upon them, offering snacks to take back upstairs. Hermione refused, with a pained look at the way the elves kept bowing and curtsying, but Harry and Ron loaded their pockets with cream cakes and pies. Marcus refused the desserts, but he did take some cooked meats and diced seasoned potatoes that was in his modified diet.

"Thanks a lot!" Harry said to the elves, who had all clustered around the door to say good night. "See you, Dobby!"

"Harry Potter...can Dobby come and see you sometimes, sir?" Dobby asked tentatively.

"Course you can," said Harry, and Dobby beamed.

"You know what?" said Ron, once he, Hermione, Harry, and Marcus had left the kitchens behind and were climbing the steps into the entrance hall again. "All these years I've been really impressed with Fred and George, nicking food from the kitchens - well, it's not exactly difficult, is it? They can't wait to give it away!"

"I think this is the best thing that could have happened to those elves, you know," said Hermione, leading the way back up the marble staircase. "Dobby coming to work here, I mean. The other elves will see how happy he is, being free, and slowly it'll dawn on them that they want that too!"

"Let's hope they don't look too closely at Winky," said Marcus.

"Oh, she'll cheer up," said Hermione, though she sounded quite skeptical. "Once the shock's worn off, and she's got used to Hogwarts, she'll see how much better off she is without that Crouch man."

"I don't think Winky's ever going to feel that way," Harry stated.

"She does seem to love him," Ron agreed thickly (he had just started on a cream cake).

"Doesn't think much of Bagman, though, does she?" said Harry. "Wonder what Crouch says at home about him?"

"Probably says he's not a very good Head of Department," said Hermione, "and let's face it...he's got a point, hasn't he?"

"I'd still work for him than old Crouch," said Ron. "At least Bagman's got a sense of humor."

"Don't let Percy hear you saying that," Hermione said, smiling slightly.

"Yeah, well, Percy wouldn't want to work for anyone with a sense of humor, would he?" said Ron, now starting on a chocolate eclair. "Percy wouldn't recognize a joke if it danced in front of him wearing Dobby's tea cozy."

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Like I mentioned in the beginning, my goal is to post the remaining chapters of this story before I go overseas, so you will get that much at the very least. I know I will finish this series, but I'm not sure of the timeframe in which that will be completed. It will be finished, that much I promise. Anyway, if you wanted to leave a review, please feel free to do so. Anything that can help me improve as a writer would be greatly appreciated. Also, if you wanted to ask me a question, please feel free to leave me a PM and, I promise, I will answer them to the best of my ability. Until then, please keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	23. (23) Surprising Failure

**Welcome, dear readers, to another chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! There's no much to say this time around, so let's get right on in it!**

 **However...**

 **Disclaimer: No ownership of HP save for OC's. I tried to meet up with Rowling to discuss it, but I'm pretty sure she's not having any of it based on all the police surrounding her place. Eh, guess I'll try another day.**

 **With that, here's...**

Chapter 23: Surprising Failure

 **Enjoy, one and all!**

"Potter! Weasley! _Will you pay attention?_ "

Professor's McGonagall's irritated voice cracked like a whip through the Transfiguration class on Thursday, leaving Marcus to break himself from the stupor of his deep thoughts.

Though he was progressing remarkably well with his training, especially considering he was strictly following the book his Aunt Em gave him after the First Task on top of the mentorship of Cedric Diggory, he still hadn't made any headway with the golden egg, which further irritated him. It was true that he perhaps had an edge over Harry, with the empty spheres he saw when Harry opened his in the common room, but he had nothing else to go off of, and everytime he opened his own, the sheer screeching noise nearly floored him in agony.

He was devising a way to crack the mysteries of the golden egg when Professor McGonagall scolded his friends who, after Marcus looked in their direction and saw it for himself, were having a sword fight with a couple of Fred and George's fake wands at the back of the class; Harry was was holding a rubber haddock while Ron was holding a tin parrot. Sure, all three of them finished their work, and the guinea fowl they changed (or rather, Marcus') into guinea pigs had been shut away in a large cage on Professor McGonagall's desk (poor Neville's still had feathers) and they had all copied down their homework from the blackboard ( _"Describe, with examples, the ways in which Transforming Spells must be adapted when performing Cross-Species Switches"_ ). And, even though it was the end of the lesson and the bell was due to ring at any moment, Marcus facepalmed himself at the childish acts of his close friends.

 _"Surely, they couldn't have waited until AFTER we were dismissed from class?"_ Marcus thought.

"Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age," said Professor McGonagall, with an angry look at the pair of them as the head of Harry's haddock drooped and fell silently to the floor - Ron's parrot's beak had severed it moments before - "I have something to say to you all."

 _"Ugh, an impromptu announcement,"_ thought Marcus. _"Hurry up and get it over with."_

He was getting quite impatient, as he planned on being in the Room of Requirement after class, working on solving the mysteries of the egg. He wanted to solve it before Christmas Day, and he resolved himself to be free of any distractions until he solved that mystery.

"The Yule Ball is approaching," said Professor McGonagall. "It's a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above - although you may invite a younger student if you wish -"

As Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle, with Parvati Patil nudging her hard in the ribs, Marcus just sighed. He was aware of the Yule Ball, having read about it in spare time, but he figured that it didn't really apply to him and he had no intention of going, not when it would take away from training. Patil's face was working furiously hard not to giggle as they both looked around at Marcus and Harry. Marcus found himself slightly annoyed that Professor McGonagall wasn't telling the two girls off for disrupting her by excessively giggling.

"Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then -"

Professor McGonagall started deliberately around the class.

"The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to - er - let our hair down," she said, in a disapproving voice.

Lavender giggled harder than ever, with her hand pressed hard against her mouth to stifle the noise, and Marcus couldn't help but smirk at the thought. Professor McGonagall, with her hair in a tight bun, looked as though she had never let her hair down in any sense.

"But that does NOT mean," Professor McGonagall went on, "that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way."

The bell finally rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders.

Professor McGonagall called above the noise, "Potter, Williams - a word, if you please."

Unsure of why Professor McGonagall wanted to speak to him, Marcus proceeded to her desk alongside Harry. She waited until the rest of the class had gone before saying, "Boys, the champions and their partners -"

"What partners?" said Harry.

Professor McGonagall looked suspiciously between the two boys as though she thought Harry was trying to be funny.

"Your partners for the Yule Ball, boys," she said coldly. "Your _dance partners_."

Marcus' heart dropped straight to his stomach.

"Dance partners?" said Marcus quickly. "Professor McGonagall, I'm not wasting my time going. I have better things to do than to attend a social gathering. Besides, I prefer not to dance."

As Harry shook his head in agreement, Professor McGonagall said with great irritance, "Oh, yes, you are. That's what I'm trying to tell the two of you. Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the ball."

Marcus felt blindsided. Nowhere in the information he read about the Triwizard Tournament did it mention about the Champions opening up the Yule Ball.

"I'm not dancing," Harry stated.

"It is traditional," said Professor McGonagall firmly. "You two are Hogwarts champions, and you both will do what is expected as representatives of the school. So make sure you get yourselves partners, Potter, Williams."

"Screw tradition!" said Marcus, turning away. "I'm doing what is best for me!"

He started to walk away when he heard the suddenly terrifying, yet calm voice of Professor McGonagall state, "Will I be forced to contact your father in this regard, Williams?"

Whatever anger he had instantly gave way to fear, as he did NOT want to incur his father's wrath.

Marcus' head drooped before admitting defeat and saying, "No, Professor. There'll be no need. I'll find a dance partner."

"But - but -?!" Harry started to say.

"You heard me, Potter," said Professor McGonagall in a very final sort of way.

As the two boys were exiting the classroom, Marcus said irritantly, "Well, this is just great. We could be getting ready for the second task, and instead, we have to find dance partners for the Yule Ball."

"Well, it's not like we're getting out of it," Harry reasoned. "And, if we have to have dance partners, then we should find someone we want to go with, right?"

"Someone...we _want_ to go with?"

"Well, yeah," said Harry. "If the two of us are forced to go, then we should at least try to have a good time."

Marcus started to think about it. What Harry was saying was making a lot of sense. If he was forced to go, then there would be no point in have a miserable time. It didn't take long for him to think of someone he wanted to ask. It only made the most sense, after all...

"Harry, I just realize I have to take care of something," he said. "I'll see you later!"

He suddenly took off for the Entrance Hall, feeling rather giddy. If he wanted to have a good time at the Yule Ball, he had to take someone that he _knew_ he would have a good time with. Someone that he trusted, someone that he could bring his wall down around, and there was only one person who fit that bill.

 _"If I remember her schedule well, she should be coming into the Entrance Hall from Potions class,"_ thought Marcus. _"I'm sure I'm not wrong!"_

He quickly bounded down the marble staircase and looked to the entrance leading into the dungeons and found who he was looking for: Lorelei Flamel, who was walking side by side with Ginny Weasley. He could see her flowing red hair that reached her waist, her shining emerald eyes, and her smile that seemed to light the room. If he was to go to the Yule Ball, he only wanted to ask her to go with him.

 _"This'll be easy,"_ thought Marcus. _"Here we go."_

But, he didn't even get to take the first step towards her when he heard someone shout, "Excuse me, Ms. Flamel!"

Marcus looked to the source of the voice to find Justin Finch-Fletchley coming out of the dungeon entrance behind Lorelei.

 _"What in the world is Justin doing there?!"_ thought Marcus.

Despite being across the entrance hall, Marcus could hear every word Lorelei and Ginny was saying, due to his heightened senses.

 _"Ooh, I wonder what Justin wants,"_ whispered Ginny, giving a sort of mischevious look at Lorelei.

 _"Stop that, Ginny,"_ who looked embarrassed by Ginny's provocation.

Ginny and Lorelei turned to face Justin, who had a smile on his face, something that unsettled Marcus.

"Is there something I can help you with, Justin?" Lorelei asked politely.

"Actually, yes, there is," said Justin. "Perhaps you are already aware, but the Yule Ball is in a few weeks and, well, if you don't have anyone already -"

He suddenly took a slight bow and said, "-I would honored if you were to go to the Ball with me."

Marcus found himself frozen, unable to move. Time seemed to greatly slow down.

He saw Ginny putting her right arm around Lorelei and said, "Of course she would be honored to! Won't you, Lorelei?"

Lorelei looked slightly embarrassed, but said, "Oh, well...um...sure, I would be honored to, Justin."

"Great!" said Justin, who raised his head, revealing a great big smile on his face. "I'll see you later, then!"

Marcus felt his world spin around him. He didn't think he would actually be beaten to the punch like this. He wanted nothing more than to disappear, to retreat to a place where no one could find him.

He didn't know how, but he could feel the surrounding energy mold around him and conform to him, cloaking him until he could not see himself anymore.

Thanking himself that no one else was around to see it, he hurriedly went to the giant oak double doors and pushed one of them open just enough to slip through and take off to his hiding place...

Lorelei looked to the marble staircase and saw Marcus, his face full of sadness and despair and suddenly started to disappear before her very eyes.

She tried to take a few steps towards him, but in that moment, he completely disappeared.

Lorelei turned to Ginny, who only caught Marcus for a second, and said, "What was _that_ for?!"

"You were lucky enough to be asked to the Yule Ball!" said Ginny. "I just didn't want you to waste that opportunity!"

"I was waiting for _Marcus_ to ask me!" said Lorelei, looking very much perturbed.

"You can't keep waiting for Marcus, Lorelei," said Ginny sternly. "I like Marcus as a friend, and he's a great guy, if only a bit secluded. But he's got to realize that you have a life outside of his, that there will be other people besides him. If he is to see you properly, there has to be adversity...at least, that's one of the things Hermione told me."

Lorelei, too irate to say anything, yet acknowledging the wisdom in Ginny's words, left for the Gryffindor common room...

* * *

Marcus was overlooking the lake in his favorite spot, the same spot that was really hard to get to if one didn't know the way around the grounds. Tears were rolling down his cheeks, but he didn't know why.

All he wanted in that moment was to be alone, to let himself regain his bearing so that no one would have to seem him so weak, so pathetic.

But, such wants was not to be that afternoon.

"There you are, Mar-kees," said a very familiar voice.

He felt the Disillusionment Charm lift, leaving Marcus looking over his right shoulder to find Fleur Delacour, who had a kind smile to her fair face.

Which disappeared the moment Fleur saw his face.

"What's wrong, Mar-kees?" she asked him.

"It's nothing," said Marcus quickly, diverting his attention away from her, choosing instead to look at the ground.

Fleur, sitting on the ground to his left, took his face in her palms, directed his eyes to her face, and she said, "Mar-kees, please, tell me what is wrong."

Marcus slowly released her hands from his face by taking his hands and using them to remove her hands, all the while saying, "I'm surrounding by boys and girls who know nothing of the troubles of this world. Their greatest problems are trivial, at best. As such, I've always felt myself distant from everyone else. But, I thought there was one person who was the exception, someone who understood me and supported me. I guess I...I was wrong. Perhaps there isn't anyone, outside of my parents, who is like that."

Suddenly, he felt his left hand being grasped by Fleur's right hand and said, "Mar-kees, you are not as alone as you theenk you are."

He felt Fleur's free hand place itself upon his left chest as she continued, **"Creatures of this world that can take the form of humans have never really been treated the same as everyone else. Even if humans don't know it, don't recognize it, they can sense that difference deep down. And, whether we are veela or dragon, we must do our best to accommodate to our surroundings and hope for the best.**

 **"I've always been revered for my beauty, Mar-kees, but I've also been scorned for it, too. I've had to adjust to a world in which has been distant to me, just like you."**

She felt the crown-shaped scar through his shirt as she continued, **"Now, I may not have the particular hardships that are in your life, Mar-kees, but I do understand what you're going through. Perhaps, out of everyone you know, I may understand it best of all."**

Marcus, lost for words, suddenly hugged Fleur.

"Thank you, Fleur," said Marcus, allowing his tears to flow freely.

"You are most welcome, Mar-kees," said Fleur, happily accepting his hug.

Marcus allowed his tears to dry before he looked at Fluer.

 _"Perhaps, I'm not as alone as I thought,"_ he thought.

"Fleur, this may be a bit ridiculous, but can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Mar-kees," she said with a smile.

"Will you...will you go the Yule Ball with me?"

Fleur's smile stretched from ear to ear as she responded, "Yes, Mar-kees, yes of course!"

Before Marcus realized it, Fleur kissed his left cheek, stood up, and said, "We'll have to go over the finer details later, then, won't we?"

Marcus felt his cheeks flushed, his left cheek in particular felt like a smoldering flame as he said, "Of course, Fleur."

* * *

As he was making his way through the Entrance Hall, he was approached by Harry and Ron, Harry asking, "Marcus, did you get taken care what you wanted done?"

Marcus hesitated a bit before saying, "Um, I guess, in a way, I did."

"Well, glad to hear that, Marcus," said Ron, who gave a kind-hearted smile.

"Question," said Harry to Marcus and Ron. "Why do they have to move in packs?"

Harry gestered to the dozen or so girls that walked past them, sniggering and staring at Marcus and Harry.

"How're you supposed to get one on their own to ask them?"

"Lasso one?" Ron suggested.

Marcus looked at Ron in a disbelieving way and stated, "Ron, they're not farm animals. Besides, it's all a test anyway."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"They're doing this to get the right guy for the dance," said Marcus. "They want someone cofident, brave, and sure to ask them. Any guy that's too embarrassed to approach a group of girls is sure to fail."

"Well, they're mad if they think they're going to get asked like that," said Ron. "Hey, Harry, Marcus, got any idea who you're going to try?"

Harry didn't give an answer. Marcus looked at him and could tell that his bespectacled friend was lost in thought, no doubt mulling over a certain prospect.

Not wanting to bring up the fact that he was going to take Fleur to the ball, Marcus lied, "Nope, I certainly have no idea."

Ron then said, "Listen, you two are not going to have any trouble. You're champions. You've just beaten a Hungarian Horntail and an American Shieldhide! I bet they'll be queing up to go with you two."

"Well, I certainly hope not," said Marcus, troubled by the thought. "That'd be a nightmare."

In tribute to their recently repaired friendship, Ron had kept the bitterness in his voice to a bare minimum. Moreover, to Marcus' utter horror, he turned out to be quite right.

In Harry's case, a curly-haired Hufflepuff girl to whom Marcus had never seen before asked Harry to go to the ball with her the very next day. Harry was so taken aback he said no before he'd even stopped to consider the matter. The girl walked off looking rather hurt, and Marcus watched as poor Harry had to endure Dean's, Seamus's, and Ron's taunts about her all through History of Magic. The following day, two more girls asked Harry, a second year and (to Marcus' great surprise) a fifth year who looked as though she might knock him out if he refused.

"She was quite good-looking," said Ron fairly, after he'd stopped laughing.

"She was a foot taller than me," said Harry, still unnerved. "Imagine what I'd look like trying to dance with her."

Marcus felt like he didn't have any right to say anything, due to his last two days.

The first day, Marcus was approached by no less than five girls, each of them being in a different year, and all of them quite eager. He politely refused them all, but secretly hoped that he wouldn't have anymore.

The second day, Marcus ended up being approached by seven girls, each of them being in their seventh year, and all of them were quite decent. After he turned _them_ all down, Marcus ended up being interrogated to no end by Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean.

Yet, despite all of the bother that was the Yule Ball, life in Hogwarts was much better than it was before the First Task. He was able to convince a load of people to leave Harry enough, though it may have been more so out of being scared of him than anything else. Doing this caused fewer _Support Marcus Williams!_ badges out and about, which Marcus didn't mind in the slightest. Draco Malfoy, of course, was still quoting Rita Skeeter's article to Harry at every possible opportunity, but he was getting fewer and fewer laughs out of it - and to cap off Marcus' well-being, no story about Hagrid had appeared in the _Daily Prophet_.

"She didn' seem very int'rested in magical creatures, ter tell yeh the truth," Hagrid said, when Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione asked him how his interview with Rita Skeeter had gone during the last Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the term. To their very great relief, Hagrid had given up on direct contact with the skrewts now, and they were merely sheltering behind his cabin today, sitting at a trestle table and preparing a fresh selection of food with which to tempt the skrewts.

"She jus' wanted me ter talk about you two, Harry, Marcus," Hagrid continued in a low voice. "Well, I told her we'd been friends since Marcus and I went to fetch yeh from the Dursleys, Harry. 'Never had to tell them off in four years?' she said. 'Never played you up in lessons, has he?' I told her no, an' she didn' seem happy at all. Yeh'd thing she wanted me to say you two were horrible, boys."

"'Course she did," said Harry, throwing lumps of dragon liver into a large metal bowl and picking up his knife to cut some more. "She can't keep writing about what a tragic little hero I am, it'll get boring."

"She wants a new angle, Hagrid," said Ron wisely as he shelled salamander eggs. "You were supposed to say Harry and Marcus are mad deliquents!"

"But they're not!" said Hagrid, looking genuinely shocked.

"She should've interviewed that ugly git, Snape," said Marcus angrily. "He'd give her the goods on us any day. _'Potter and Williams have been crossing lines ever since they first arrived at this school...'_ '

"Said that, did he," said Hagrid, while Ron and Hermione laughed. "Well, yeh might've bent a few rules, boys, bu' yeh're all righ' really aren' you?"

"Cheers, Hagrid," said Harry, grinning.

"You coming to this ball thing on Christmas Day, Hagrid?" said Ron.

"Though' I might look in on it, yeah," said Hagrid gruffly. "Should be a good do, I reckon. You'll be openin' the dancin', won' yeh, Harry, Marcus? Who're you two takin'?"

"No one, yet," said Harry.

"No idea, honestly," Marcus replied, looking to the ground and avoiding eye contact with everyone, in particular Hermione, who seemed to be giving him a penetrating stare. Luckily, Hagrid didn't pursue the subject.

* * *

The last week of the term became increasingly boisterous as it progressed. Rumors about the Yule Ball were flying everywhere, though Marcus knew better than to believe half of them - for instance, that Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. It seemed to be fact, however, that he had booked the Weird Sisters, which was huge news. They were constantly booked all year round and were all over the WWN (Wizarding Wireless Network) for as long as Marcus knew, they were that famous.

Some of the teachers, like little Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach them when their minds were so clearly elsewhere; he allowed them to play games in his lesson on Wednesday, and spent most of it talking to Harry about the perfect Summoning Charm Harry had used during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Other teachers, unfortunately, were not so generous. For example, nothing would ever deflect stalwart Professor Binns from plowing on through his notes on goblin rebellions - as Binns hadn't let his own death stand in the way of continuing to teach, they supposed a small thing like Christmas wasn't going to put him off. It was nothing short of wonder how the ghostly scholar could make even bloody and vicious goblin riots sound as boring as Percy's cauldron-bottom report. Professors McGonagall and Moody kept them working until the very last second of their classes too, and Snape, to no one's surprise, would no sooner let them play games in class than adopt Harry. Staring nastily around at them all, he informed them that he would be testing them on poison antidotes during the last lesson of the term.

As Marcus was making his way down from the dormitory into the common room with intentions of going to the Room of Requirement, he heard Ron bitterly say, "Evil, he is. Springing a test on us on the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of studying."

Marcus stopped moving for a second as Hermione noted, "Mmm...you're not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?" She was looking at Ron over the top of her Potions notes, who was busy building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack - a much more interesting pastime than with normal cards the Muggles used, because of the chance that the whole thing would blow up at any second.

"It's Christmas, Hermione," said Harry lazily; he was rereading _Flying with the Cannons_ for the tenth time in an armchair near the fire.

Rolling his eyes, Marcus took a couple of steps toward the portrait hole when he heard Hermione say, "Marcus! Heading off to training?"

Marcus looked at her and said, "Of course. I can't slack off just because it's the holiday season. I'll see you guys later."

As he exited the common room, he was sure to put the Disillusionment Charm over himself before making his way to the Room of Requirement so that no one or, in particular eager girls, could see him and stop him.

Eventually, he made it into the Room of Requirement where he saw Cedric and Lorelei stretching, getting ready for the physical workout portion of their training.

"Ah, Marcus! Just in time. Tonight is upper body/core day for physical training, and I do believe affinity training and Duplication Spell training is afterwards," Cedric stated.

Marcus and Lorelei locked eyes for all of one second before diverting their attention away from each other.

Since the time where Justin asked Lorelei to the Yule Ball, neither of them had been able to go through a training session without feeling awkward. They did their best to try and act normal in the two trainings sessions a day because of Cedric, but there was no denying the change of atmosphere that came with the recent sessions.

And it seemed that Cedric had enough.

"Okay, before we continue, you two need to work through this," Cedric said.

"Work through what?" Marcus asked.

"This awkwardness, this uneeded tension, you two are getting rid of it," said Cedric, looking quite serious. "We're not going to do any training until this is resolved."

Marcus felt a little annoyed, but took one look at Lorelei and felt that, despite not wanting to do so, it was rather needed.

He faced Lorelei, who looked determined as well, and he said, "Lorelei, you probably knew this already, but I wanted to ask you to the Yule Ball. After Professor McGonagall told me I needed a dance partner to open the Yule Ball with, I figured that, since we're great friends and we'd have a great time, it was only natural for me to ask you. And, yes, I didn't plan on someone else asking you, and that fault lies with me. However, it would be wrong of me to try and convince you to go with me when another guy had the courage to ask you. So, that's what has been bothering me."

Lorelei, who had an unusually calm face, said, "Oh, well, yes, it is true that I knew that you were going to ask me, and I am sorry that you were beaten to the punch. But, how about this? We'll have at least one dance together, sometime before the end of the ball."

Marcus felt a little smirk across his face and said, "Yeah, that sounds really nice."

Cedric clapped his hands together and said, "All right, the issue's resolved! Let's get to it!"

So, for the next two hours, they underwent their training, Marcus noticing some remarkable things.

In the hour that was dedicated to physical training, Marcus noticed that both Cedric and Lorelei were neck and neck with Marcus' extra strenuous regimen, which was especially remarkable for Cedric as he basically started from scratch at the beginning of the school year. With Lorelei, knowing that her physical constitution was not good when they first started training two years ago, she was now, without a doubt in Marcus' mind, one of the most physically fit young ladies in all of Hogwarts, and Marcus had a feeling that she was nowhere near her potential.

When the three of them were in their magic training, Marcus knew that he was nowhere near Cedric's skill, but with each training session they had, he could feel the gap closing bit by bit. That being said, Lorelei was making leaps and bounds with her learning to the point where Marcus couldn't let up on his own learning.

"Wow!" said Marcus. "We make quite the trio, don't we?"

"Yes, we do!" said Lorelei, grinning from ear to ear.

"There's nothing we can't do," said Cedric, who was smiling as well.

Marcus felt pretty proud of both of them when his mind drifted back to his golden egg, and the mysterious clue inside of it that would reveal his next task.

Marcus sighed and said, "Well, can you guys help me with something?"

"Sure," said Cedric. "What is it?"

"What comes to mind if I say the phrase, 'empty spheres'?" asked Marcus.

Both Lorelei and Cedric looked puzzled, and they took a minute to think about what Marcus asked.

Suddenly, Cedric blurted out, "Bubbles."

Marcus, suprised by his answer, said, "Bubbles?"

"Well, yeah," said Cedric. "I see them all the time whenever I'm showering. The best times are -"

"Right underneath the water," said Marcus, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

"What is it?" asked Lorelei.

"The golden egg from the first task," said Marcus, just realizing it now. "There's an etching at the top of the egg where it can unhinge, and there's an etching of a starfish at the top. Dear God, how was I not paying attention!? Do you know what this means?!"

"I'm not sure, but I think you're about to tell us," said Lorelei.

"If I take the egg underwater, I may finally figure out what is in store for me in the next task!" said Marcus with excitement. "The only problem is, where in the world am I going to find such a place?"

"I know _exactly_ where you need to go," said Cedric.

"You do?" asked Marcus. "Where?"

"It's the prefects' bathroom," said Cedric. "Fourth door to the left of that statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor. The password's 'pine fresh'."

"Okay," said Marcus, thinking extremely quickly. "I'm going to go get the egg. Meet me at the entrance to the prefects' bathroom in ten minutes, Cedric! We're going to figure out the mystery tonight!"

"Wait, what about me?" asked Lorelei as Cedric was getting his stuff around.

Marcus could tell that she wanted to figure out the mystery of the golden egg just as much as he wanted to.

"Well, Lorelei, I'm already breaking the rules by having Marcus come to the prefects' bathroom," said Cedric. "Throw in a girl being with two guys, and that'll be the end of it."

"Don't worry, I'll tell you all about it once I figure it out," Macrus told her, reassuring her.

"Well, all right," Lorelei said with reluctance. "But I want to find out everything!"

"You will! I promise!" said Marcus as him and Cedric hurried their way out of the Room of Requirement.

Marcus was sure to cast the Disillusionment Charm over himself before rushing to the Gryffindor Common Room, causing the Fat Lady much confusion as he said the password while appearing in front of her eyes. He hurried to his trunk, where his golden egg was located. He cast the Disillusionment Charm over the egg as well as himself, then carefully made his way back out of the common room and, upon exiting, took off for the fifth floor.

It took a bit, but eventually, he saw Cedric right next to the statue of Boris the Bewildered, looking around.

"Cedric, it's me," Marcus said, making sure there were no one else around.

"Fantastic," said Cedric, smiling. "I just confirmed that there's no one in there. So, once we're in there, I'll put a jinx on the door to deter everyone else from entering. We'll have as much time as we need to figure this out."

"Awesome," said Marcus. "Let's do it."

So, Cedric led the invisible Marcus to the fourth door to the left, where he said, "Pine fresh."

Immediately, the door creaked open. Cedric gestured Marcus inside and did so quickly, Cedric following closely behind, making sure to put his deterring jinx on the door when it was shut.

And, as Marcus lifted the Disillusionment Charm on both himself and his egg, he looked around.

His first thought was that, if he became a prefect - unlikely as _that_ was - he wouldn't use any other bathroom expect for this one. It was softly lit by a splendid candle-filled chandelier, and everything was made of white marble, including what looked like an empty, rectangular swimming pool sunk into the middle of the floor. About a hundred golden taps stood all around the pool's edges, each with a differently colored jewel set into its handle. There was also a diving board. Long white linen curtains hung at the windows; a large pile of fluffy white towels sat in a corner, and there was a single golden-framed painting on the wall. It featured a blonde mermaid who, upon the two of entering, started to excessively play with her hair and bat her eyelashes.

"Wow, you prefects get everything, don't you?" asked Marcus as he sat the egg next to the pool and went to get a towel.

"Please, this is only one of the few benefits of being a prefect," said Cedric. "Trust me, being a prefect only looks good on parchment. The rest of it can go into the trash where it belongs."

As Marcus was changing into his swimsuit, he looked up at Cedric and said, "That's really surprising. A well-rounded, upstanding model Hogwarts student like yourself _not_ liking being a prefect? Percy Weasley ate up that sort of thing like a free buffet."

"The other prefects avoided Percy like the plague," said Cedric in a matter-of-fact tone as he finished blasting the liquid bubbles into the pool.

"Can't blame you there," said Marcus, who made his way over to the edge of the pool, right next to the egg. "The only reason I couldn't avoid him is because I was in the same House as him."

He then sighed before trying to relax.

"You feeling nervous?" asked Cedric.

"A little," said Marcus. "The First Task was bad enough, I'm a little jittery in knowing what they're planning next."

"Well, let's figure it out first, then we'll plan accordingly," said Cedric.

Marcus nodded before taking the egg, placing it on his lap, and sliding into the pool, making sure that he was holding his breath.

Once he was sitting on the bottom of the pool, the egg unfolded before his eyes, making Marcus hear a chorus of eerie voices singing to him from the open egg in his hands:

 _"Come seek us where our voices sound,  
We cannot sing above the ground,  
And while you're searching, ponder this:  
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,  
An hour long you'll have to look,  
And to recover what we took,  
But past an hour - the prospect's black,  
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."_

Marcus allowed himself to come back up above the surface as he took a breath of fresh air.

"So, what did you find out?" asked Cedric eagerly.

"I have it hear once more," said Marcus. "I only got about half of that."

So, Marcus dipped down into the water once more to hear the golden egg's song. Thirty seconds later, Marcus resurfaced, along with the golden egg, thankfully closed.

As he sat along the poolside next to Cedric, Cedric asked, "So, what did you find out?"

Marcus relayed the entire song back to Cedric while looking a little flushed.

"Okay, so what does this mean?" Cedric asked.

"Well, for starters, the Second Task is going to take place at the Black Lake," stated Marcus. "It's the only body of water suitable for whatever the heck is lined up for me."

"All right, what else?"

"And I have an hour to complete the task. I'm assuming it's a sort of time limit to complete the task in."

"So, you have an hour to complete the second task at the Black Lake, which involves retrieving something that has been taken from you," stated Cedric. "But, who would be doing the taking?"

"Merpeople," stated Marcus, gesturing to the painting of the mermaid on the wall. "At least, they'll be overseeing the task. That's my guess."

Cedric noticed the paleness of Marcus' face and asked, "Well, what's the problem? Everything sounds pretty clear cut."

"I have to dive down to the bottom of the Black Lake!" Marcus responded, sounding a bit delirious. "I've only had basic swimming lessons, and I'm absolutely sure I can't hold my breath for an hour!"

"Okay, first things first, there's a simple spell that'll ensure you not having to hold your breath," said Cedric reassuredly. "I'll be sure to teach it to you, don't worry. Secondly, we'll think of something to get ready for this, but let's get through the Yule Ball first, then focus on the Second Task."

"Okay, let's switch topics for a second before I feel anymore physically ill," said Marcus, who really looked like he was going to hurl.

"Well, there is something I wanted to talk to you about," said Cedric.

"Oh? What's that?"

"It's about the Yule Ball," Cedric responded. "Or, rather, someone I want to ask to the Yule Ball."

"Um, okay," said Marcus, not entirely sure how he would be any help.

"See, there's a girl I want to ask," Cedric stated. "She's in fifth year, and is quite amazing. She plays on the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team, and she does really well in her classes. I've actually liked her for the longest time, but I just don't know how to go about asking her to the Yule Ball."

Marcus was quite stunned to hear this coming from Cedric.

"Wait, so you're telling me _you're_ having issues asking someone to the Yule Ball?"

"Yeah, that about sums it up."

"Okay, listen, Cedric," said Marcus. "I'm not exactly good with things of this nature, but you're Cedric Diggory! You're admired by practically every girl in school, you have a good head on your shoulders, well thought of by all the professors, and you're Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team! You're overthinking it if there are any doubts in your mind. This is one of those times where you tackle the problem headfirst without even thinking about it. Just do it, Cedric. You won't regret it."

"Yeah, you're right," said Cedric, who sounded relieved. "Thank, Marcus!"

"I'm just glad I could be some help," said Marcus. "I mean, you've been a huge help in my training all this year, it's the least I could do. So, this girl, what's her name?"

"Cho Chang," said Cedric.

Marcus thought the name sounded familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Well, let's get out of here," said Cedric. "If we stay out any later, our respective Housemates will start asking questions."

"Right you are, Cedric," said Marcus, gathering his belongings. "Let's get a move on."

And the two of them hurried out of the prefects' bathroom, Marcus feeling better about his chances in the second task then before...

* * *

The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Christmas. When the decorations went up, Marcus noticed - without fail - that they were the most stunning he'd ever seen inside the school. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. It was rather interesting to hear "O Come, All Ye Faithful" sung by an empty helmet that happened to only know half the words. Several times, Filch the caretaker had to extract Peeves from inside the armor, where he had taken to hiding, filling in the gaps in the songs with lyrics of his own invention, all of which were very rude.

In his free time, on top of going over the details for the Yule Ball, Fleur and Marcus reconnected on such a level that the white-haired wizard felt that there was no ten year gap of absence from the quarter veela. He did find it rather challenging to keep it a secret from everyone he knew, as he would never hear the end of it otherwise.

And, on Friday morning, Marcus could see, based on the looks of worry on Harry and Ron's faces, that they still did not have dates for the Yule Ball. Ron was not as big of a concern as Harry in his matter; Harry would look much more stupid if he did not have a partner, as Harry and Marcus were to start the dancing with the other champions.

"I suppose there's always Moaning Myrtle," Harry said gloomily, referring to the ghost who haunted the girls' toilets on the second floor.

"Harry - we've just got to grit our teeth and do it," said Ron in a tone that suggested they were planning the attack of an impenetrable fortress. "When we get back to the common room tonight, we'll both have partners - agreed?"

"Er...okay," said Harry.

"Well, good luck with that," said Marcus. "You'll have to let me know how you two do."

"Okay, Marcus, what's going on with you?" asked Ron, looking a little tense. "The ball's right around the corner, yet you look completely composed. Have you even asked anyone yourself?"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," said Marcus as he was leading the way to class.

Throughout the day, he couldn't stop thinking of Fleur or, rather, the idea of being her date to the Yule Ball. He wasn't exactly sure what he was getting himself into, but it was going to be interesting, regardless. He also couldn't stop thinking about the Second Task, having an ever-so clear idea of what was in store for him and not a whole lot of ideas on how to prepare for it, though Cedric seemed to be confident about his training.

The things that were on Marcus' mind wasn't enough to distract him from Snape's Potions test, getting himself the usual top marks, despite Snape's best efforts otherwise.

When the bell rang, Marcus got his stuff and hurried to the dungeon floor with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"I'll meet you at dinner," Harry said to them, and Marcus saw Harry dashing upstairs.

"Well, I'm going to go find the one I want to ask," said Ron, and proceeded to do the same thing.

Marcus looked at Hermione and said, "I'm going to go for a short walk on the grounds for a bit, I'll see you in the common room."

Hermione looked like she wanted to ask him something, but refrained as she waved as Marcus made his way to the front doors and went through them.

He only took a few steps away from the doors when he saw Fleur approaching them.

"Fleur," said Marcus, rather surprised.

"Mar-kees," said Fluer with a smile, crossing the distance and hugging him. "Just the very young man I wanted to see."

"Well, the feeling is mutual," said Marcus with a smile. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

As the two of them were entering back through the front doors, Fleur said, **"Well, as much as I would like to chat, just the two of us, I have to be brief. Madam Maxime is getting really strict with her students. So, about the Yule Ball..."**

"Yes?" asked Marcus.

"I think it'd be best if you were to meet me in the Entrance Hall wiz everyone else," stated Fleur.

"Are - are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Marcus, who suddenly felt worried.

"Well, I know that you don't like uneeded attention," said Fleur, who sounded sincere, "But, my current schedule doesn't have a lot of free time, so -?!"

But Fleur didn't get to finish before Marcus heard a familiar voice shout, "Ms. Delacour, will you go to the ball with me?!"

He didn't need to even look to know who shouted: Ron Weasley. Marcus knew that he had a crush on her, but to ask her to the ball? Even he didn't think of that.

He saw the look on Fleur's face, a face of disgust, and he had no choice but to facepalm himself.

She turned back to Marcus and said rather savagely, "What on Earth was that boy thinking?!"

"Um, his name is Ron Weasley, and he's one of my close friends," said Marcus.

"Oh!" said Fleur, looking caught. "I didn't realize, Mar-kees! I'm so sorry!"

"Well, it's all right," said Marcus. "He's not exactly an ideal person all the time, but he has his good points. He has a sort of crush on you, but I honestly didn't think he'd ask you to the ball."

"Well, if he's your close friend, then I shall keep an open mind," said Fleur, giving a smirk. "So, ze entrance hall, five minutes before the ball starts."

"Yeah, see you later," said Marcus as he watched Fleur leave through the front doors.

He didn't really feel like having dinner, so he made his way up to the Gryffindor common room, gave the password to the Fat Lady, and proceeded to the dormitory to change out of his school robes.

Fresh and ready for training, he looked into the common room and found Ron sitting ashen-faced in a distant corner. Ginny was sitting next to him, talking to him in what seemed to be a low, soothing voice.

As Marcus went down the stairs and made his way to Ron, he saw that Harry was entering the common room through the portrait hole and saw Ron in his rather sorry state, as well.

"What's up, Ron?" Harry asked Ron as both Marcus and Harry joined him.

Ron looked up at them both, a sort of blind horror in his face.

"Why did I do it?" he said wildly. "I don't know what made me do it!"

"What?" said Harry.

"He - er - just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him," said Ginny. She looked as though she was fighting back a smile, but she kept patting Ron's arm sympathetically.

"You _what_?" said Harry.

"I don't know what made me do it!" Ron gapsed again. "What was I playing at? There were people - all around - I've gone mad - everyone watching! I saw her near the entrance hall doors when I was going down for dinner and, well, it sort of came over me - and I asked her!"

Marcus decided to play dumb, as he already knew about Ron's embarrasing scene in the entrance hall.

"Wait, Ron, what was she doing near the entrance hall doors?" asked Marcus.

"I'm not sure," Ron moaned as he put his face in his hands, talking through his hands.

His words were barely distinguishable as he continued, "She may have been talking to somebody, but I was too embarrassed after she looked at like I was a sea slug or something to really notice anything else. She didn't even reply. And then - I dunno - I was just sort of came to my senses and ran for it."

"I wouldn't dwell on it," said Marcus, trying to be reassuring.

"Marcus is right," Harry told Ron. "She's part veela, so she probably has unreasonable standards. You were right, Ron - her grandmother was one. It wasn't your fault. I bet you walked in on her turing on the charm for whoever she was trying to ask to the ball."

"Well, how did you turn out, Harry?" Marcus asked.

"Not much better, I'm afraid," Harry said dully. "I asked Cho Chang to go with me to the ball, but she told me she's going with Cedric Diggory instead."

Marcus' mind suddenly flashed back to his talk with Cedric in the prefect's bathroom, and he suddenly remembered why the name sounded familiar, which made him feel a bit guilty about helping Cedric.

Ginny had suddenly stopped smiling.

"This is mad," said Ron. "We're the only ones left who haven't got anyone - well, except Neville. Hey, guys - guess who he asked? _Hermione!_ "

" _What?_ " said Marcus and Harry, completely distracted by this rather startling news.

"Yeah, I know!" said Ron, some of the color coming back into his face as he started to laugh. "He told me after Potions! Said she's always been really nice, helping him out with work and stuff - but she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn't want to go with Neville...I mean, who would?"

"Don't!" said Ginny, annoyed. "Don't laugh -"

Just then Hermione climbed in through the portrait hole.

"Why weren't you three at dinner?" she said, coming over to join them.

"Because - oh shut up laughing, you two," Ginny said, referring to Harry and Ron. "Because they've both just been turned down by girls they asked to the ball!"

That shut Harry and Ron up.

"Thanks a bunch, Ginny," said Ron sourly.

"What about you, Marcus?" Hermione asked. "Have any luck?"

Marcus employed his best poker face as he lied, "Unfortunately not, Hermione. I'm not sure what I'll do for the ball, honestly."

"Oh, really?" said Hermione with a mischevious smirk on her face. "I heard you already have a date for the ball."

"And here I thought you were educated, Hermione," Marcus told her. "You'll have to find out the facts for yourself come Christmas Day, I'm afraid."

Hermione then turned to Ron and loftily said, "All the good-looking ones taken, Ron? Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone _somewhere_ who'll have you."

Marcus looked at Ron, sure that he was going to shoot back some retort. Instead, he was staring at Hermione as though he was suddenly seeing her in a whole new light.

"Hermione, Neville's right - you _are_ a girl..."

"Oh, well spotted," she said acidly.

"Well - you can come with one of us!"

"No, I can't," snapped Hermione.

"Oh come on," he said impatiently, "we need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has..."

"I can't come with you," said Hermione, now blushing, "because I'm already going with someone."

"No, you're not!" said Ron. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"

"Oh _did_ I?" said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Just because it's taken _you_ three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one _else_ had spotted I'm a girl!"

Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again.

"Okay, okay, we know you're a girl," he said. "That do? Will you come now?"

"I've already told you!" Hermione said very angrily. "I'm going with someone else!"

And she stormed off toward the girls' dormitories again.

"She's lying," said Ron flatly, watching her go.

"She's not," said Ginny quietly.

"Who is it then?" said Ron sharply.

"I'm not telling you, it's her business," said Ginny.

"Right," said Ron, who looked extremely put out, "this is getting stupid. Ginny, _you_ can go with Harry, and I'll just -"

"I can't," said Ginny and she went scarlet too. "I'm going with - with Neville. He asked me when Hermione said no, and I thought...well...I'm not going to be able to go otherwise, I'm not in fourth year." She looked extremely miserable. "I'll think I'll go and have dinner," she said, and she got up and walked off to the portrait hole, her head bowed.

Ron goggled at Harry and Marcus.

"What's got into them?" he demanded.

Marcus was about to respond when he saw Parvati and Lavender come in through the portrait hole.

"Wait here," Harry said to Ron, and he stood up, walked straight up to Parvati, and said, "Parvati? Will you go to the ball with me?"

Marcus watched Parvati going into a fit of giggles and Harry waiting patiently for her to subside.

"Yes, all right then," she said finally, blushing furiously.

"Thanks," said Harry, in relief. "Lavender - will you go with Ron?"

"She's going with Seamus," said Parvati, and the pair of them giggled harder than ever.

Harry sighed.

As he saw Harry leaning in towards the two girls, Marcus looked over to Ron and said, "Well, have a good night, Ron. I have to get to my training session."

Ron waved him good night as Marcus made his way to the portrait hole and, as he made his way past the girls, he heard Lavender say, "What about you, Marcus? Who are you going with?"

"I guess you'll find to find out with the rest of the school," said Marcus as he exited the common room.

As he making his way to the Room of Requirement, he couldn't help but think how bad things could turn out once everyone knew he was taking Fleur Delacour to the Yule Ball...

 **And this concludes another chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review on this story as it will help me improve my skills as a writer. Also, if you wanted to ask me any questions, please feel free to leave a PM for me to read and, I promise, I will answer any and all questions to the best of my ability. Otherwise, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	24. (24) One Wild Night

**Welcome, one and all, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Ugh, just ugh. Between my job, my personal problems, and lack of progress in the series (until recently), I've done a terrible job keeping up with updates. However, I will continue to post the chapters until the very end of this series. I will not give up! Now, moving right along into this chapter...**

 **Disclaimer: No rights to the HP series except for the OCs I have created.**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter 24: One Wild Night

 **Enjoy!**

With the very heavy load of homework that the fourth years had been given for the holidays, it took Marcus all that he had to finish it, owing his rather scattered mind to the arduous events that were the Yule Ball and the Second Task. It didn't help matters that Gryffindor Tower was no less crowded than it normally would be; rather, it seemed to have shrunk slightly, as its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than usual. Fred and George had great success with their Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days of the holidays, people kept bursting into feather all over the place. It didn't take long for everyone, however, to learn to treat food anybody else offered them with extreme caution, in case it had a Canary Cream concealed in the center, though George confided in Marcus that he and Fred were now working on developing something else. Even if he was glad that Fred and George were chasing after their dream, Marcus made a mental note not to accept even a crisp from the twins in the future. He still hadn't forgotten about the Ton-Tongue Toffee incident over the summer.

Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid's cabin, while the Durmstrang ship's portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The house-elves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savory puddings, and Marcus was not all surprised to see that only Fleur Delacour seemed to find anything to complain about.

"It is too 'eavy, all zis 'Ogwarts food," they heard her saying grumpily to a fellow Beauxbatons student as the four of them were leaving the Great Hall behind her one evening (Ron skulking behind Harry, keen not to be spotted by Fleur). "I will not fit into my dress robes!"

"Oooh there's a tragedy," Hermione snapped as Fleur went out into the entrance hall. "She really thinks a lot of herself, that one, doesn't she?"

"Hermione - who are you going to the ball with?" said Ron.

He kept springing this question on her, hoping to startle her into a response by asking it when she least expected it. However, Hermione merely frowned and said, "I'm not telling you, you'll just make fun of me."

"You're joking, Weasley!" said Malfoy, behind them. "You're not telling me someone's asked _that_ to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?"

Marcus, Harry, and Ron all whipped around, but Hermione said loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoy's shoulder, "Hello, Professor Moody!"

Malfoy went pale and jumped backward, looking wildly round for Moody, but he was still up at the staff table, finishing his stew.

"Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?" said Hermione scathingly, and she, Marcus, Harry, and Ron went up the marble staircase laughing heartily.

"Hermione," said Ron, looking sideways at her, suddenly frowning, "your teeth..."

"What about them?" she said.

"Well, they're different...I've just noticed..."

"Of course they are - did you expect me to keep those fangs Malfoy gave me?"

"That's not what Ron meant," said Marcus, who just noticed the change himself. "You're teeth are different to how they were before he put that hex on you...They're all...straight and - and normal-sized."

Hermione suddenly smiled very mischievously, confirming what Marcus was saying: It was a very different smile from the one he remembered.

"Well...when I went up to Madam Pomfrey to get them shrunk, she held up a mirror and told me to stop her when they were back to how they normally were," she said. "And I just...let her carry on a bit." She smiled even more widely. "Mum and Dad won't be too pleased. I've been trying to persuade them to let me shrink them for ages, but they wanted me to carry on with my braces. You know, they're dentists, they just don't think teeth and magic should - look! Pigwidgeon's back!"

Ron's tiny owl was twittering madly on the top of the icicle-laden banisters, three scrolls of parchment tied to his legs. People passing him were pointing and laughing, and a group of third-year girls paused and said, "Oh look at the weeny owl! Isn't he _cute_?"

"Stupid little feathery git!" Ron hissed, hurrying up the stairs and snatching up Pigwidgeon. "You bring letters to the addressee! You don't hang around showing off!"

Pigwidgeon hooted happily, his head protruding over Ron's fist. THe third-year girls all looked very shocked.

"Clear off!" Ron snapped at them, waving the fist holding Pigwidgeon, who hooted more happily than ever as he soared through the air. "Here - take them, guys," Ron added in an undertone as the third-year girls scuttled away looking scandalized. He pulled Sirius' reply to Harry off Pigwidgeon's left leg and gave it to Harry while handing the other two parchments to Marcus, leaving the latter confused as to what the second parchment could be. Regardless, the two boys pocketed their mail, and they hurried off to Gryffindor Tower to read them.

Everyone in the common room was much too busy in letting off more holiday steam to observe what anyone else was up to. Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat apart from everyone else by a dark window that was gradually filling up with snow, and Harry read out:

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Congratulations on getting past the Horntail. Whoever put your name in that goblet shouldn't be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitus Curse, as a dragon's eyes are its weakest point -_ "That's what Krum did!" Hermione whispered - _but your way was better, I'm impressed._

 _Don't get complacent, though, Harry. You've only done one task; whoever put you in for the tournament's got plenty more opportunity if they're trying to hurt you. Keep your eyes open - particularly when the person we discussed is around - and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble. Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual.  
-Sirius_

"He sounds exactly like Moody," said Harry quietly, tucking the letter away again inside his robes. "'Constant vigilance! You'd think I walk around with my eyes shut, banging off the walls..."

"But he's right, Harry," said Hermione. "Both you _and_ Marcus still have two more tasks to do. You really ought to have a look at that egg, you know, and start working out what it means."

"Well, you don't have to worry about me, Hermione," said Marcus, grasping what he knew was Sirius' response in his hands. "I've already figured out the egg."

"What?!" said Ron in surprise. "Well, then, help out Harry, then!"

"You know I'm not going to, Ron," said Marcus, opening the parchment. "Harry has to figure it out on his own."

Marcus then read the contents of the letter out loud:

 _Dear Marcus,_

 _A truly outstanding job succeeding in the first task against the legendary American Shieldhide, Marcus. Even though you don't view the first task as a personal win, the fact of the matter is that you were able to get the egg, and that counts as success._

 _I know you feel rattled about your circumstances, but you must keep a level head. Not everyone within the castle walls are trustworthy, so be on your guard. Keep doing what you're doing, and you'll get through this year unscathed, I assure you._

 _Keep in touch, I want to know anything unusual that takes place.  
-Sirius_

"Well, that's Sirius for you," said Marcus with a smirk. "Always trying to keep me focused. Now, what's this second letter?"

Marcus opened the second letter and read:

 _Dear Marcus,_

 _I'll be coming to visit you on Christmas Day, to catch up and see how you're doing. Meet me outside the entrance hall at 10 am._

 _-Mom_

"Mom's coming to visit me on Christmas Day?" Marcus said. "Well, I'm glad something's gone right for once."

"Oh, that's awesome!" said Hermione, smiling. "Congrats, Marcus!" She then turned to Harry and said, "So, Harry, are you going to figure out that egg or not?"

"Hermione, he's got ages!" Ron snapped. "Want a game of chess, Harry?"

"Yeah, okay," said Harry. then, spotting the look on Hermione's face, he said, "Come on, how'm I supposed to concentrate with all the noise going on? I won't even be able to hear the egg over this lot."

"Oh I suppose not," she sighed, and she sat down to watch their chess match, Marcus going to change and, after changing, proceeded to go to the Room of Requirement for one last training session.

At the end of the session, Cedric, Marcus, and Lorelei all looked at each other.

"Well, this is the final training session we'll be having before the Yule Ball," said Cedric. "After the Yule Ball, we'll focus on Marcus' Second Task training in the evenings until he's good to go."

"But, how will that happen?" said Marcus. "Doing training at the Black Lake, someone's bound to catch us."

"Not a problem," said Cedric, who proceeded to cast -

"The Disillusionment Charm!" Marcus said, surprised to see Cedric disappearing before his eyes.

As Cedric reappeared before his eyes as he said, "It took a long while, but after seeing you doing it countless times, I got the hang of it quite well."

"You're truly impressive, Cedric," said Marcus. "I really don't understand why everyone thinks you're an airhead."

Cedric's smile faded a little and said, "Well, I don't want people to think that I'm this perfect, all-around guy, because I'm not. So, I act dumber than I am so that I don't get unwanted attention."

 _"In essence, the same as me,"_ thought Marcus.

"But, enough about that," said Cedric. "Here's hoping that we'll all have a great time at tomorrow's ball."

"Right," said Marcus, suddenly not feeling so great about the Yule Ball.

"Oh, Marcus?" said Lorelei. "Have you found someone to go to the ball with?"

"Yes, but I rather not say who," said Marcus, who turned towards the door. "Have a good night, guys."

Marcus then left the room, not entirely sure how he felt about Christmas Day...

* * *

The Dark Prince, just finishing up with his own training, was overseeing the potion that Voldemort needed for his master plan. It would be strenuous for anyone else, but for him, it was mere child's play.

Just as he was finishing up with the necessary steps of the potions, he saw the last person he wanted to see come into the room: Peter Pettigrew, better known as Wormtail.

"Oh, it's you," the Dark Prince said scornfully. "What do you want?"

"It's the Dark Lord, my Prince," said Wormtail, trembling. "He wishes to see you."

The Dark Prince gave a sort of disapproving noise before saying, "Fine. I'll go see him. Don't do anything stupid, peon."

He made his way to Riddle's room, not approving of his constant interruptions.

He crossed the threshold of the doorway, stoppped in front of Riddle, and said, "How can I be of service, my Lord?"

"I wish to know the status update of our plans, Dark Prince," said Riddle in his decrepit state.

"The potion needed for this plan to work is going perfectly," stated the Dark Prince. "However, as our spy has informed me, Harry Potter has made no progress with how to succeed in the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament."

"This is a problem," said Riddle. "Have we taken any countermeasures to make sure our plan goes as it should?"

"The spy has already started to take the necessary countermeasures, but the spy is in a rather delicate situation," stated the Dark Prince. "This is a situation that may have to be played by ear."

Riddle's face contorted to one of disapproval, but nonetheless said, "Very well, Dark Prince. What will you do?"

"There are some tasks I have to take care of, now that you mention it," said the Dark Prince with a smirk. "I'll be gone a while, but Wormtail, as incompetant as he is, should be able to follow the instructions for the potion."

"Don't forget, Dark Prince, that I'll need you for the time period between the Second and Third tasks," Riddle told him.

"Oh, I won't, my Lord," said the Dark Prince as he exited. However, upon going down the stairs, he thought, _"As much as I would like to_. _"_

Once he stepped outside of the manor, he said to himself, "Now, time to get things moving along."

He then Disapparated in the night...

* * *

Marcus woke up quite slowly on Christmas Day, not altogether looking forward to tonight's events. However, the silence was suddenly disturbed.

 _"Dobby!"_ Marcus heard Harry yell. "Don't _do_ that!"

"Dobby is sorry, sir!" squeaked Dobby anxiously. "Dobby is only wanting to wish Harry Potter 'Merry Christmas' and bring him a present, sir! Harry Potter did say Dobby could come and see him sometimes, sir!"

As Marcus was sitting up, looking around, he heard Harry say, "It's okay. Just - just prod me or something in the future, all right, don't bend over me like that..."

As Marcus pulled back the curtains around his four-poster bed, he saw Harry doing the same thing.

"Someone attacking you, Harry?" Seamus asked sleepily.

"No, it's just Dobby," Harry muttered. "Go back to sleep."

"Nah...presents!" said Seamus, spotting the large pile at the foot of his bed. Ron, Dean, and Neville decided that now they were awake they might as well get down to some present-opening too. Marcus looked at his own pile and saw that he had a few presents of his own. He looked over to Harry's bed once again and saw that Dobby was standing nervously next to Harry's bed, looking worried that he had upset Harry somehow. There was a Christmas bauble tied to the loop on top of his tea cozy.

"Can Dobby give Harry Potter his present?" he squeaked tentatively.

"'Course you can," said Harry. "Er...I've got something for you too."

Marcus could tell that Harry was lying and that he really didn't get Dobby anything. However, Harry quickly opened his trunk and pulled out a particularly foul pair of socks. He handed the socks to Dobby, saying, "Sorry, I forgot to wrap them..."

But Dobby was utterly delighted.

"Socks are Dobby's favorite, favorite clothes, sir!" he said, ripping off his odd ones and pulling on the nasty socks. "I has seven now, sir...But, sir..." he said, his eyes widening, having pulled both socks up to their highest extent, so that they reached to the bottom of his shorts, "they has made a mistake in the shop, Harry Potter, they is giving you two the same!"

"Ah, no, Harry, how come you didn't spot that?" said Ron, grinning over from his own bed, which was now strewn with wrapping paper. "Tell you what, Dobby - here you go - take these two, and you can mix them up properly. And here's your sweater."

He threw Dobby a pair of violet socks he had just unwrapped, and the hand-knitted sweater Mrs. Weasley had sent. Dobby looked quite overwhelmed.

"Sir is very kind!" he squeaked, his eyes brimming with tears again, bowing deeply to Ron. "Dobby knew sir must be a great wizard, for he is one of Harry Potter's greatest friends, but Dobby did not know that he was also as generous of spirit, as noble, as selfless -"

"They're only socks," said Ron, who had gone slightly pink around the ears, though he looked rather pleased all the same. "Wow, Harry, Marcus -" He had just opened up their presents; from Harry, a Chudley Cannon hat, and from Marcus, a signed Chudley Cannon jersey. "Cool!" He hurriedly put on the jersey and afterwards jammed the hat onto his head, where both clothing items clashed horribly with his hair.

Dobby then proceeded to hand Harry his present, which turned out to be - socks.

"Dobby is making them himself, sir!" the elf said happily. "He is buying the wool out of his wages, sir!"

The left sock was bright red and had a pattern of broomsticks upon it; the right sock was green was a pattern of Snitches.

"They're...they're really...well, thanks, Dobby," said Harry, and he pulled them on, causing Dobby's eyes to leak with happiness again.

"Dobby must go now, sir, we is already making Christmas dinner in the kitchens!" said Dobby, and he hurried out of the dormitory, waving good-bye to Ron and the others as he passed.

Marcus turned his attention to his presents and was very happy with what he got this year. From his parents, he got a book about ideal food diet plans to maximize his workout results. From Hermione, a sword-sharpening kit for his personal weapon, Abscido. From Harry and Ron, a number of meats and vegetables that Marcus loved to have as part of a meal. From Mrs. Weasley, her usual sweater and mincemeat pies, and from Lorelei, a simple necklace charm in the form of a dragon, which he couldn't help but admire as he eagerly put it around his neck.

Around five to ten, he made his way down the marble staircase into the entrance hall, eagerly waiting for his mother to show up.

It actually didn't take too long, as he saw the double oak doors opening to see -

"Mother!" said Marcus, running to her.

"Oh, Marcus," said Brynn, hugging her son as Marcus closed the distance. "I know it's only been a month, but I couldn't help myself."

"It's all right, Mom," said Marcus, who was smirking.

"Why don't we walk the grounds?" said Brynn. "I'm not granted much time this visit, and there are some things I'd like to talk to you about."

As they started walking, Brynn asked, "So, how are things going for you since the First Task?"

"Not all that great," said Marcus, his smirk disappearing. "I wasn't able to ask Lorelei to the ball in time, I'm too afraid of what's in store for me in the Second Task, and worst of all, I have to go to the Yule Ball and lead the dancing! Gah, if I wasn't a Hogwarts Champion, I would have nothing to worry about this year!"

"Well, the fact still stands that you're a champion, so there's nothing you can do about it," said Brynn. "What exactly are you worried about for the Second Task?"

"Well, it's what I know about it," said Marcus. "I figure, at this point, I'm the only champion that knows what's lined up in the Second Task. Basically, I have an hour to go to the bottom of Black Lake to retrieve something that's stolen from me and resurface."

Brynn's face went serious as she said, "What?"

"I know," said Marcus. "Never mind the time limit, I'm not even sure how I'll survive for five minutes."

"No, no, I don't think you realize the ramifications of your situation," said Brynn, putting a hand on Marcus' right shoulder. "Oh, things are worse than what you realize."

"Wait, what?" asked Marcus, who trembled a bit.

"It's because of -" Brynn looked around, ensuring that there wasn't anyone around before she leaned in to Marcus' right ear and whispered, "your heritage. Your Shieldhide heritage."

As she stood upright, Marcus, confused, said, "I don't know what you're talking about, Mom."

"You remember when you were told that the body and, more specifically, the muscular system of the American Shieldhide is one of the most magically advanced systems in the entire world?"

Marcus nodded, leaving Brynn to continue.

"Well, even if our bodies are magically enhanced so that we can be lighter and stronger than anything else, the fact stands that we still have to obey the laws of nature."

"And...that means...?"

"We still have to worry about the laws of gravity, Marcus," said Brynn, looking a bit flustered. "Now, it's not a big concern on land or in the skies, but it's a major problem with bodies of water. The Shieldhide dragons can only be active in water for so long before we proceed to drop to the bottom like a rock."

"What?!" said Marcus loudly. "Well, what does that mean for me?!"

"Well, since the average mature Shieldhide weighs around a ton and a half of magically enhanced muscle and can only last in bodies of water for around five minutes," said Brynn, who was then silent for around twenty seconds, no doubt figuring it all out. Finally, she said, "You'll only have a half hour underwater, give or take."

"HALF THE TIME I'M ALLOTED TO COMPLETE THE TASK?!" roared Marcus, turning quite delirious. "What the hell am I going to do?!"

"Well, first, you can pull yourself together, you're going to make a scene," Brynn told him.

"Right, right," said Marcus, trying to regulate his breathing.

"Now, you remember the book your Aunt Em gave you shortly after the First Task?" Brynn asked him.

"Yes, I've been learning as much as I can from that book," said Marcus. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, there may be something in there that, if mastered, will alleviate the reduced timeframe issue," said Brynn.

"Oh," said Marcus. "Oh, okay."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get somber there," said Brynn. "Anyway, are you excited about the Yule Ball tonight?"

Marcus looked at his mother's face, so full of joy and glee.

"Please, I don't even want to go," said Marcus. "The only reason I'm going is because I _have_ to go. I'm not even going to be taking who I wanted to go with."

"And that would be...?"

"Lorelei Flamel, my friend and training partner," Marcus stated. "I mean, I only wanted to go as friends, but I still feel irate about not being able to take her. Justin Finch-Fletchley," he added with venom, "is going to take her."

Brynn, unknown to Marcus, made a short facial contortion of understanding before correcting herself and saying, "Well, surely, you're taking _someone_ , right? You are opening the ball, after all."

"Yeah, I am," said Marcus. He sighed before stating, "I'm taking Fleur Delacour."

"The Beauxbatons Champion?" asked Brynn, a little bamboozled.

Marcus nodded as she asked, "Isn't that the girl you spent your time with the summer of your fifth birthday, the first time we were all in France?"

"One and the same, mother," said Marcus.

"Is she really that bad?"

"On the contrary, she's amazing. She understands me, we really connect, and she's an amazing, talented witch."

"Then what's the problem taking her, Marcus?"

"Because I lost, mother!" yelled Marcus louder than he meant to. "I feel like Fleur is only a consolation prize, which is ridiculous because I only meant to take Lorelei to the ball as a friend! I don't understand how I can feel this way!"

Marcus was looking at the ground, feeling frustrated with himself all over again.

They finally stopped walking when they reached the edge of the Black Lake, and Brynn put her arms around her son and said, "Marcus, nothing in this life is perfect. You're not going to win every 'battle' that you find yourself in. So, you weren't able to ask Lorelei to the ball, Marcus. That doesn't mean that everything is ruined. I mean, look at it this way: How many guys do you know that would want to take Fluer Delacour to the ball tonight?"

"Pretty much every guy I know, plus the rest of the guys in the castle," stated Marcus without hesitation.

"See? There you go, Marcus," said Brynn. "You turn a bad scenario into a great scenario, Marcus. Make the most out of what you've been dealt with. Go to the ball with Fleur, treasure each moment that you get at this event tonight with the person that _wants_ to be with you because, let's be fair, it's the first of its kind in centuries. All right, Marcus?"

Marcus looked at his Mom and said, "You're right, Mom. I can't dwell like this. I'll have a good time at the ball with Fleur and treasure it...with everything I have."

"That's the spirit, Marcus!" said Brynn, hugging him. She then looked at the time and said, "Oh, drat! I told your father I'd be back in the office by noon, and it's already eleven thirty."

"Wait, where's dad?"

"He's following a lead in America at the moment," said Brynn. "We were notified by American Aurors that the Dark Prince has been active in the East Coast, and he went on ahead to investigate. I have to be in the office at noon so that I can use the Floo Network to meet up with him."

"Well, what are you still doing here, Mom?" Marcus said. "Hurry up and catch him!"

"You're right, you're right," said Brynn. "The Dark Prince is one slippery bastard."

She then cupped Marcus' face, ensuring he was looking at her eyes before saying, "Remeber, Marcus, make the most out of tonight and treasure it."

"I will, Mom, don't worry," said Marcus, smirking once more.

"Good," said Brynn. "I've got to go. Have fun tonight, let me know about it the next time I get to see you."

He saw his mom walking towards the boundary gate and said, "I will, Mom!"

Marcus then walked back to the castle in much better spirits than he had when he first woke up. He met up with Lorelei, Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the Great Hall for a rather magnificent lunch, which included at least a hundred turkeys and Christmas puddings, and large piles of Cribbage's Wizarding Crackers.

They all went out onto the grounds in the afternoon; the snow was untouched save for the deep channels made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students on their way up to the castle. Hermione and Lorelei chose to watch Marcus have a snowball fight against everyone else rather than join in, and at five o'clock, they told them that the two of them were going back upstairs to get ready for the ball.

"What, you ladies need three hours?" said Ron, looking at Hermione increduously and paying for his lapse in concentration by a joint attack from Marcus and George, hitting him hard in the side of the head with their snowballs. "Who're you going with?" he yelled after Hermione, but she just waved and disappeared up the stone steps in the castle with Lorelei.

There was no Christmas tea today, as the ball included a feast, so at seven o'clock, when it had become hard to aim properly, the others abandoned their snowball fight and trooped back to the common room, Marcus starting to feel butterflies in his stomach for the first time in a long time outside of fighting. The Fat Lady was sitting in her frame with her friend Violet from downstairs, both of them extremely tipsy, empty boxes of chocolate liqueuers litterling the bottom of their picture.

"Lairy fights, that's the one!" she giggled when they gave the password, and she swung forward to let them inside.

Marcus, Harry, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville changed into their dress robes up in their dormitory, all of them looking very self-conscious, especially Marcus with his top-of-the-line dress robes, which earned him a few nasty looks. However, despite what he felt, he knew that Ron had him beat. Ron surveyed himself in the long mirror in the corner with an appalled look on his face. There was just no getting around the fact that his dress robes looked more like an actual dress than anything else. In a desperate attempt to make them look more manly, he used a Severing Charm on the ruff and cuffs. It worked fairly well; at least he was now lace-free, although he hadn't done a very neat job, and the edges still looked depressingly frayed as they boys set off downstairs.

"I still can't work out how you two got the best-looking girls in the year, Harry and Ron," muttered Dean.

"Animal magnetism," said Ron gloomily, pulling stray threads out of his cuffs.

"At least we finally get to find out who Marcus is taking," said Seamus, grinning at Marcus, which was a bit unsettling.

"Unless he wants to go ahead and tell us now," said Dean, grinning at Marcus as well.

"Not happening," said Marcus flatly, rather anxious to break away from the boys.

The common room looked strange, full of people wearing different colors instead of the usual mass of black. Marcus could see Parvati waiting for Harry at the foot of the stairs. She looked very pretty indeed, in robes of shocking pink, with her long dark plait braided with gold, and gold bracelets glimmering at her wrists. Marcus was a little happy that Harry was taking someone decent, at the very least.

"You - er - look nice," Harry said rather awkwardly.

"Thanks," she said. "Padma's going to meet you in the entrance hall," she added to Ron.

"Right," said Ron, looking around. "Where's Hermione?"

Parvati shrugged. "Shall we go down then, Harry?"

"Okay," said Harry, leaving Marcus to go on ahead, but not before George tried to ask him who he was taking to the ball, to which he avoided the question altogether.

The entrance hall was packed with students too, all milling around waiting for eight o'clock, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. Those people who were meeting partners from different Houses were edging through the crowd trying to find one another. Marcus saw Parvati finding her sister, Padma, and led her over to Harry and Ron.

"Hi," said Padma, who was looking just as pretty as Parvati in robes of bright torquoise. She didn't look too enthusiastic about having Ron as a partner, though; her dark eyes lingered on the frayed neck and sleeves of his dress robes as she looked him up and down.

"Hi," said Ron, not looking at her, but staring around at the crowd. "Oh no..."

Ron hid behind Harry, leaving Marcus to suddenly feel not so good about his situation.

 _"Oh, crap,"_ was all he could think before he turned around to an amazing sight.

Fluer Delacour was standing behind him, looking amazingly beautiful in robes of silver-gray satin and with a grin on her face that seemed to light up the whole room.

 **"There you are, Mar-kees,"** Fleur said. "Iz my date to ze ball ready?"

Marcus looked back to his housemates to see flabbergasted looks from all except for Ron, who seemed to have a look of fury he had never seen before.

Marcus gupled before turning back to Fleur, smiling and saying, "Of course, Fleur. Let's step to the side for a few seconds."

Once they were as isolated as they could be in the Great Hall, Marcus said, **"Before we go in there, let me change my robe color to match yours."**

Marcus then used his wand and proceeded to change the colors of his robes to silver-gray.

 **"What do you think, Fleur?"**

 **"Not bad, Mar-kees, but let's try this instead,"** Fleur said as she tapped her wand on Marcus' robes.

Suddenly, his dress robes were as white as his hair color, which Marcus really wasn't too thrilled about.

 **"You really look the most handsome in white, Mar-kees,"** Fluer told him.

He then noticed her blushing, which caused Marcus' face to go hot.

In that moment, Marcus heard the oak front doors opening, causing him to turn in that direction. He saw Professor Karkaroff and the Durmstrang students entering with Krum in the lead. He was accompanied by by a pretty girl in blue robes that looked familiar, but his attention was then pulled by an area of lawn right in front of the castle, which had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights - meaning hundred of actual living fairies were sitting in the rosebushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer.

Then, Professor McGonagall's voice called, "Champions over here, please!"

Side by side, Marcus and Fluer made their way to Professor McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat. She instructed them to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; they were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down.

Marcus was rather eager to put himself in the back, but Fleur was having none of that.

 **"No, no, Mar-kees!"** Fleur said to him, putting them both in the front. **"The best couple goes first, now, don't they?"**

Marcus, rather entranced by her genuine smile and the tingling feeling of her left arm, felt the urge to look around him. He looked at Harry, whose looked both nervous and fidgity, and then at Krum, who was looking at Marcus with the same steely, cold eyes. He then focused on the girl next to Krum and, suddenly, he knew who she was, making his jaw drop.

It was Hermione.

But she didn't look like Hermione at all. She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow - perhaps it was due to not having to carry all of her books around on her back. She was also smiling - rather nervously, yes - but the reduction in the size of her front teeth was more noticeable than ever; Marcus was astounded by the Hermione that was standing before him.

"Hi, Marcus!" she said. "Hi, Harry! Hi, Parvati!"

Marcus saw Parvati gazing at Hermione in a rather unflattering disbelief, though she wasn't the only one. When the doors to the Great Hall opened, Krum's fan club from the library stalked past, throwing daggers of deepest loathing in her direction. Pansy Parkinson gaped at her as she walked by with Malfoy, and even he didn't seem to be able to find an insult to throw at her. Ron, however, walked past Hermione without looking at her.

Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall told the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs and to follow her. With Marcus and Fleur directly behind her, they entered in the Great Hall to great applause, though Marcus couldn't help but notice the many death stares from the guys. Professor McGonagall was leading them toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

As they were getting closer, Marcus spotted Ron amongst the crowd and didn't like what he saw: A look of anger, fitted with narrow eyes and complimented by obvious loathing, though he wasn't sure if it was directed at him or Hermione. He looked to Fleur, who was smiling and waving at the crowd and he couldn't help but smile, knowing that she was actually enjoying herself.

Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table, but Karkaroff wore an expression remarkably like Ron's as he watched Krum and Hermione draw nearer. Ludo Bagman, tonight wearing robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiatically as any of the students; Madame Maxime, who changed out her usual uniform of black satin in favor of a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding them politely. Marcus then noticed that Mr. Crouch was nowhere to be seen. In place of him was Percy Weasley, which Marcus was not too fond of seeing.

When the champions and their partners reached the table, Percy drew out the empty chairs on either side of him, staring at Marcus and Harry. Reluctantly taking the hit, Marcus proceeded to sit on Percy's left while Harry sat on Percy's right. He was wearing brand-new, navy-blue dress robes and an expression of such smugness that Marcus wanted to deck it right off his face.

"I've been promoted," Percy said before any words could be exchanged, and from his tone, he might have been announcing his election as overlord of the universe. "I'm now Mr. Crouch's personal assistant, and I'm here representing him."

 _"Oh, how I feel lucky to know that,"_ Marcus thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Why didn't he come?" Harry asked.

"I'm afraid to say Mr. Crouch isn't well, not well at all. Hasn't been right since the World Cup. Hardly surprising - overwork. He's not as young as he was - though still quite brilliant, of course, the mind remains as great as it ever was. But the World Cup was a fiasco for the whole Ministry, and then, Mr. Crouch suffered a huge personal shock with the misbehavior of that house-elf of his, Slinky, or whatever she was called. Naturally, he dismissed her immediately afterward, but - well, as I say, he's getting on, he needs looking after, and I think he's found a definite drop in his home comforts since she left. And then we had the tournament to arrange, and the aftermath of the Cup to deal with - that revolting Skeeter woman buzzing around - no, poor man, he's having a well-earned, quiet Christmas. I'm just glad he knew he had someone he could rely upon to take his place."

As much as Marcus wanted to ask Percy if Mr. Crouch had stopped calling him "Weatherby" yet, he resisted and turned his attention back to the table.

There was no food yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus were lying in front of each of them. Marcus looked at his, perusing through his options, when he heard Dumbuldore very clearly saying, "Pork Chops!"

He looked at Dumbledore to see that pork chops appeared on his plate. He then snuck a glance at Hermione to see if she would have a recation about the new and more complicated method of dining - which meant more work for the house-elves - but, surprisingly, Hermione didn't seem to be thinking about S.P.E.W. She was deep in talk with Viktor Krum and hardly seemed to notice what she was eating.

In the few times that Krum was talking to him, it was always with an angry and brooding sort of tone. Tonight, however, his voice was jubilient and very enthusiastic.

"Vell, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, not as comfortable, I am thinking," he was telling Hermione. "Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these - though in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains -"

"Now, now, Viktor!" said Karkaroff with a laugh that didn't reach his cold eyes, "don't go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!"

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Igor, all this secrecy...one would almost think you didn't want visitors."

"Well, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, displaying his yellowing teeth to their fullest extent, "we are all protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we not jealously guard the halls of learning that have been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our school's secrets, and right to protect them?"

"Oh I would never dream of assuming I know all Hogwarts' secrets, Igor," said Dumbledore amicably. "Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turn on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamber pots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon - or when the seeker has an expectionally full bladder."

Trying his best not to bust out laughing, Marcus looked at his plate and said, "Marcus special!"

Suddenly, his order appeared and he smiled upon seeing it: Two grilled chicken thighs, steamed vegetables, and a sweet potato covered in a special vinagarette of his own making, dubbed the Marcus Marinade.

"Oh, _c'est magnifique!"_ said Fleur. "I believe I will take a leaf out of ze book. Mar-kees special!"

As the same plate of food appeared on her plate, she looked around at the sparkling walls of the Great Hall and stated, "Zis is nothing. At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we 'ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of course...zey are like 'uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb, much like ze food you put together, Mar-kees. And we 'ave choirs of wood nymphs, 'oo serenade us as we eat. We 'ave none of zis ugly armor in ze 'alls."

"Hogwarts has its own particular charms, Fleur," said Marcus, feeling slightly irate with Fleur's words. "There are much more beautiful things here at Hogwarts."

"Well, zis is true," said Fluer with a smile which vanished as she continued, "But zat poltergeist! I tell zou, eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, 'e would be expelled like _zat_."

"Now, that's something I can agree with," said Marcus vehemently. "I would boot out Peeves quicker than lightning if it were up to me."

Suddenly, Marcus heard a lot of "ooh!" and "aah!" coming from the entrance of the Great Hall and saw a very familiar bright light of stardust flying towards him.

"Twink, did you get bored?" asked Marcus as the bright light landed on his left shoulder, the energy dissipating to reveal his Star Child.

"Oh, _incroyable!"_ said Fleur. "Zou 'ave got a Star Child?"

"His name is Twink," said Marcus with a smile. "Say hi to Fleur Delacour, Twink."

Twink looked over to Fluer and waved one of his points to her.

"Aw, ze Star Child is super cute!" Fleur said, gently caressing Twink with her left index finger.

Marcus then had an idea.

"Twink, why don't you go around Hogwarts tonight when I tell you to?" said Marcus. "Be my eyes and ears for anything that may come across as interesting, all right?"

Twink then nodded his head fervently, looking rather eager to get started.

Just then, Marcus saw the Weird Sisters trooping up onto the stage to wildly entusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments and, almost instantly, the lanterns at the other tables had gone out.

 _"Guess it's time,"_ Marcus thought reluctantly as he stood up with Fluer, who took him by the hand and led them first onto the dance floor.

The Wierd Sisters started to play, and Marcus recognized it to be -

"The waltz?" Marcus said to Fleur.

"I had Madame Maxime speak to zem and requested zis song before zey came to ze Hall," said Fluer with a smile. "Zou ready, Mar-kees?"

"Let's do it," said Marcus with a smile of his own.

Of course, Marcus was not fond of dancing overall, but it was a skill he picked up during his Muggle school days, nonetheless. Even though it was his mother who practically scared him into learning to dance in the first placed, he felt slightly relieved that he had it for moments like these and hoped that he wasn't too rusty.

Keeping the "1,2,3" rythem of the waltz playing in his head repeatedly, Marcus led Fluer in twirling around the room, Twink swaying along on his right shoulder, seeming to enjoying the movements, like it was a ride of some sort. He could feel the stares of everyone in the room, most likely due to the fact that his date was none other than Fluer Delacour.

He was just starting to enjoy the waltz when he heard the outro of the song. He whispered, "Twink, twirl around us when I dip her for a finishing flair, all right?"

They twirled around a couple more times before he heard the cue to dip her. Twink started to twirl around them as he dipped her, showering the both of them in a stardust cloud.

Then, something happened that made the whole crowd gasp in suprise and shock.

Before he knew it was happening, he could feel Fleur's lips passionately pressed against his at the end of the dip, leaving Marcus so shocked that he almost dropped her.

When his lips seperated from hers, leaving a clear view of Fluer's blushing face, she said to him, "Sorry, Mar-kees. I vas too enticed to rezist."

Finding himself blushing, he said, "Um, don't apologize, Fleur. It felt...amazing."

Feeling his face getting too flushed, he glanced at Twink and said, "All right, Twink, gather me some information."

Twink rose from his shoulder, gave a salute, then zoomed past the hall doors and out of sight.

Suddenly, the Wierd Sisters started into a fast pace song, making everyone come on the dance floor and join in on the dancing.

As he got into the dancing, for the first time in a long time, he was able to let go all of his worries. None of them mattered tonight, not in the slightest. With Fleur by his side, enjoying herself as much as he was, he let himself be a normal teenage wizard instead and it felt like nothing else in the world.

Eventually, the Wierd Sisters broke into a slow song and Marcus was about to extend his hand out to Fleur when he heard an all too familiar voice saying, "There you are, Marcus."

He turned to the source of the voice and his jaw dropped, his heart skipped a beat.

It was Lorelei Flamel.

Standing in front of him, wearing a conforming, shimmering red ballgown, her long, wavy, flowing red hair caressing her back, and her diamond smile with her sparkling emerald eyes, she looked an angel from heaven.

She gave a slight giggle before saying, "You did promise me a dance, did you not?"

"Um, yes, yes I did," said Marcus before he looked to Fleur and said, "Sorry about this, Fleur. I did make a promise, after all."

"It iz okay, Mar-kees," said Fleur, though her smile did not reach her eyes. "Make zure to find _moi_ when ze song is over."

As she walked away, the slow song was starting to play. Marcus put his hands around Lorelei's waist while she put hers on his shoulder.

They started to slowly revolve in place as she said, "I could see why you wanted to keep your date under wraps."

"I didn't think it was good for anyone to know that tidbit of information until the start of the dance," said Marcus, unable to draw away from her eyes. "That reminds me, how is Justin doing?"

"He's enjoying himself," she replied. "He told me that he liked me for a long time and only got the courage to talk to me when he heard about the Yule Ball."

"I think it's pretty obvious by now, but I really wanted to ask you to go with me."

"I know, and there's a part of me that wishes that would've worked out."

He felt his heart beat rapidly, making him take deep breaths to calm down.

"Only a part?"

"Things happen for a reason, Marcus. Nothing truly happens by chance."

"I see."

Suddenly, the song ended, causing the two of them to break apart.

"You - you better find your date, Marcus," Lorelei said, not meeting his eyes. "I imagine she's patiently waiting for your return."

She turned around and walked away from Marcus, leaving him wanting to run after her, but knew that he couldn't.

Eventually, he found Fleur at the champion's table. When seeing him approach, she asked him, **"Who was that?"**

 **"That was Lorelei Flamel, a friend and training partner,"** Marcus responded.

It looked like Fleur wanted to say more on the subject, but she stopped herself, instead saying, **"It's getting too hot and stuffy in here. Let's go outside."**

Marcus smiled and said, **"Lead the way, madam."**

They went together out of the front oak doors and into the garden with the fairly lights, taking in the beautiful scenary.

 **"Ah, I must admit, Mar-kees, Hogwarts does have its charm,"** Fleur told him, surveying the wonderful surrounding.

 **"It wouldn't be nearly as charming if you weren't here with me, Fleur,"** said Marcus, who felt a little blush on his face.

Fleur looked at him and said, **"Mar-kees, though many things have happened in these past ten years, I still can't help but be charmed by you. The joyful, energetic boy back then is still there, if only buried under a stubborn front."**

As she giggled, Marcus retorted, **"That's not - er - entirely true. I can let my guard down, you know. I have so far around you, haven't I?"**

Fleur smiled as she stated, **"Yes, you have. There is no need to put on your front with me."**

She took his hand into hers as she stated, **"Mar-kees, let us be together, side by side, tackling life's troubles head on and smiling along the way."**

 **"I'd be glad to, Fleur,"** said Marcus, his genuine smile going from ear to ear.

They spent what remaining time they had together in the fairy garden, talking about everything, yet nothing in particular. For Marcus, it just felt natural to be with her, despite her being part Veela.

Somehow, all too quickly, Fleur looked at the people starting to exit the castle and said, **"Oh, my, the Ball has already ended?"**

 **"Must be,"** stated Marcus.

 **"Will you walk me to the carriage, darling?"** she asked him with a smile.

 **"Sure."**

He used his wand to clear a path for them while his right arm was linked with hers and it was in this moment that Marcus realized something.

 **"Fleur, what about the Triwizard Tournament?"**

 **"Hm?"**

 **"We're still competitors, after all."**

Fluer cupped her chin with her free hand, thinking hard before saying with a smile, **"We can still be rivals while we're dating, can't we?"**

Marcus smirked and stated, **"Well, I don't see why we can't."**

Much too soon for their liking, they were standing in front of the Beauxbatons carriage.

 **"Well, this is it,"** said Marcus. **"I'll see you tomorrow, then?"**

 **"Of course, my darling boyfriend,"** said Fleur, who kissed him again, making his face feel really hot. She opened the carriage door, said, **"Good night, Mar-kees Villiams,"** and entered in the carriage, closing the door behind her.

For the duration of the walk back to the castle and to the Gryffindor Common Room, Marcus was lost in thought over his sudden good fortune. He was glad that he took his mother's advice to heart, for he was sure that the events would have not played out the way they did if he didn't had set aside his needless, self-inflicting suffering. He replayed the last few hours in his mind, vividly seeing the events pass in his head, smiling for every second he was doing so.

The only thing that snapped him out of it, and rather violently at that, was when he entered the Gryffindor Common Room.

He walked in next to Harry to what was no doubt a screaming volley of words. He saw that Ron and Hermione, despite only standing ten feet apart, were both scarlet in the face.

"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?" yelled Hermione; her hair was coming down out of its elegant bun now, and her face was screwed up in anger.

"Oh, yeah?" Ron yelled back. "What's that?"

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

Ron mouthed soundlessly like a goldfish out of water as Hermione turned on her heel and stormed up the girls' staircase to bed. Ron turned to look in their direction.

"Well," he sputtered, looking thunderstruck, "well - that just proves - completely misses the -"

He then only realized that Marcus was standing alongside Harry and his face contorted to the same dark look Marcus saw when he first entered the Great Hall with Fleur earlier tonight.

"Oh, it's you," Ron said in such a menacing manner that it caught Marcus well off guard. "Did you enjoy yourself tonight, _traitor_?"

"Excuse you?" asked Marcus, feeling threatened.

"Going to the Ball with the Beauxbatons Champion, despite competing against her," stated Ron, still keeping his menacing tone. "I would've thought you better than to go fraternizing with the enemy, but I guess you couldn't help yourself, seeing as she's entrancingly beautiful, huh?"

He really didn't want to square off against Ron, as he enjoyed being back on speaking terms with him, but the jab he used against him was not something Marcus was going to take lying down.

"And I suppose you brought up the same, stupid point with Hermione, didn't you?"

"So what if I did?" Ron stated, raising his voice slightly.

"Then it comes as no surprise that you didn't think it through," said Marcus, raising his voice to match his. "The whole point of this tournament is to establish ties with foreign wizards and making friends with them!"

"It's about winning, Williams!" roared Ron, using the exact same decible he had against Hermione. "That woman's going to make you lose focus or use you as a stepping stone!"

"This is coming from an idiot who couldn't read between the lines and had a self-inflicted, miserable time at the Ball!" Marcus roared back, summoning his wand. "Looks to me like the only one who's lost focus is you!"

"You'll pay for that one, traitor," said Ron, whipping out his own wand and pointed it straight at Marcus.

"Then make me pay, Weasley," Marcus growled through gritted teeth, raising his wand for -

He felt a tugging sensation on his left sleeve and looked to find Twink, tugging as hard as he could so that Marcus couldn't do anything.

Upon seeing this, he calmed himself down, allowed his wand to shoot back up his sleeve, and said, "I'm going to turn in. No use wasting my time down here, anyway."

He kept his focus on the stairs and didn't bother looking anywhere else until he had changed out of his dress robes, into pajamas, and sat on his bed, closing the bed curtains around him.

He looked to Twink, who was sitting on his left shoulder, and said, "Thanks for the stop, Twink. I'm not sure where that would've headed if you hadn't been there."

Twink glowed a pink aura, which he took to mean blushing.

"Say, Twink, did you find out anything good tonight?"

Twink flew around him excitedly, looking rather eager.

"Well, I'll take that as a yes," he said with a smirk. "Let's start from the top, then."

To this, Twink flew to his forehead and latched onto it.

Suddenly, he was seeing Ron and Harry sitting at a table in the Great Hall from above them, Ron wearing a glowering look. He also saw Hermione coming over and sitting in the vacant seat next to him.

"Hi," said Harry. Ron kept silent.

"It's hot, isn't it?" said Hermione, fanning herself with her hand. "Viktor's just gone to get some drinks."

Ron gave her a withering look. _"Viktor?"_ he said. "Hasn't he asked you to call him _Vicky_ yet?"

The line of sight was revolved so that their faces could be seen, Hermione looking surprised as she said, "What's up with you?"

"If you don't know," he replied scathingly, "I'm not going to tell you."

Hermione stared at him, then at Harry, who shrugged.

"Ron, what -?"

"He's from Durmstrang!" spat Ron. "He's competing against Harry and Marcus! Against Hogwarts! You - you're -" Ron was obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione's crime, _"fraternizing with the enemy_ , that's what you're doing!"

Hermione's mouth fell open.

"Don't be so stupid!" she said after a moment. "The _enemy_! Honestly - who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory? And look at Marcus! He went to the ball with the Beauxbatons Champion, and you don't see him making an enemy out of her!"

Ron, ignoring this, said instead, "I s'pose Krum asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?"

"Yes, he did," said Hermione, the pink patches on her cheeks glowing more brightly. "So what?"

"What happened - trying to get him to join _spew_ , were you?"

"No, I wasn't! If you _really_ want to know, he - he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage!"

Hermione said all of this pretty quickly, and blushed so deeply that she was the same color as Parvati's robes.

"Yeah, well - that's his story," said Ron nastily.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang out with...He's just trying to get closer to Marcus and Harry - get inside information on him - or get near enough to jinx them -"

Hermione looked as though Ron had slapped her. When she spoke, her voice quivered.

"For your information, he hasn't asked me _one single thing_ about -"

Ron changed tack at the speed of light.

"Then he's hoping you'll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you've been putting your heads together during those cozy little library sessions -"

"I'd _never_ help him work out that egg!" said Hermione, looking outraged. " _Never_. How could you say something like that - I want both Marcus and Harry to win the tournament, Harry knows that, don't you, Harry?"

"You've got a funny way of showing it," sneered Ron.

"This whole tournament's supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!" said Hermione hotly.

"No it isn't!" shouted Ron. "It's about winning!"

"Ron," Marcus could hear Harry saying quietly, "I haven't got a problem with Hermione coming with Krum -"

Ron ignored Harry, as well, saying, "Why don't you go and find Vicky, he'll be wondering where you are."

 _"Don't call him Vicky!"_

Hermione jumped to her feet and stormed off across the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd.

Suddenly, the scene changed.

He was seeing what he knew to be the fairy gardens, for he was near the fountain close to where Twink was. He found himself seeing two familiar, yet unpleasant sights: Snape and Karkaroff.

"Surely, you must see that things are not looking good for us, Severus," stated Karkaroff. "Even as we speak, the Dark Lord is somehow growing stronger with time."

"Do you even hear yourself right now?" said Snape, keeping a straight face. "Besides, I really don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor."

"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" Karkaroff's voice sounded anxious and hushed, which was highly suspicious. "It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can't deny it -"

"Then flee," said Snape in a curt manner. "Flee - I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts."

Snape and Karkaroff then suddenly started to walk around the corner and the scene became a whirling myriad of colors until it stopped on a scene with Hagrid and Madame Maxime.

"Momen' I saw yeh, I knew," he was saying in a rather husky voice.

"What did you know, 'Agrid?" said Madame Maxime, a purr in her low voice.

"I jus' knew...knew you were like me...Was it yer mother or yer father?"

"I - I don't know what you mean, 'Agrid..."

"It was my mother," said Hagrid quietly. "She was one o' the las' ones in Britain. 'Course, I can' remember her too well...she left, see. When I was abou' three. She wasn' really the maternal sort. Well...it's not in their natures, is it? Dunno what happened to her...might be dead fer all I know..."

Madame Maxime had been silent since Hagrid started to talk about his childhood, which was bizarre hearing about considering he never talked about his childhood before.

"Me dad was broken-hearted when she wen'. Tiny little bloke, my dad was. By the time I was six I could lift him up an' put him on top o' the dresser if he annoyed me. Used ter make him laugh..." Hagrid's deep voice broke. Madame Maxime was listening, motionless, apparently staring at the silvery fountain. "Dad raised me...but he died, o' course, jus' after I started school. Sorta had ter make me own way after that. Dumbledore was a real help, mind. Very kind ter me, he was..."

Hagrid pulled out a large spotted silk handkerchief and blew his nose heavily.

"So...anyway...enough abou' me. What about you? Which side you got it on?"

Madame Maxime suddenly got to her feet.

"It it chilly," she said, the tone of her voice colder than the weather around them. "I think I will go in now."

"Eh?" said Hagrid blankly. "No, don' go! I've - I've never met another one before!"

"Anuzzer _what_ , precisely?" said Madame Maxime, her tone becoming very icy.

Marcus was hoping against hope that Hagrid was going to keep silent, but it was no good in the end.

"Another half-giant, o' course!" said Hagrid.

"'Ow dare you!" she shrieked. Her voice exploded through the peaceful night air like a foghorn. "I 'ave nevair been more insulted in my life! 'Alf-giant? _Moi?_ I 'ave - I 'ave big bones!"

She stormed away, leaving great multicolored swarms of fairies rising in the air in her wake as she was angrily pushing the bushes aside.

The last thing Marcus saw was the darkened figure of Hagrid staring after before for a minute before he stood up and strode away back to the direction of his cabin before the visions stopped.

As he was seeing the curtains of his bed again, he looked at Twink, who was resting on his left shoulder, and said, "Wow, Twink, you really saw a lot tonight. Thank you so very much, Twink."

He saw that Twink looked at him with his grateful, cute smile before he went back to resting again.

He gently took Twink off his shoulder and onto his designated pillow, saying, "Take a rest, Twink. You deserve it. Speaking of which, time to turn it myself."

He then rested his head against the pillow, bidding the world good night...

 **And this concludes another chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Feel free to leave a review on the story, it'd help me strengthen my writing skills. Also, if you have any questions, feel free to leave me a PM and, I promise, I will answer those questions to the best of my ability. Until, keep your eyes peeled to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	25. (25) A Heartbreaking Scene

**Welcome, once again, to the next chapter of HP: Path of Trials! As we get further into the book, and series, I extend my thanks to those who have continued to read it. Knowing there are people who enjoy reading what I post is truly an honor. I will do my best to continue updates until the very end. Also:**

 **Disclaimer: I own no part of HP save for my OC's.**

 **Now, here's...**

Chapter 25: A Heartbreaking Scene

 **Enjoy, dear readers!**

Early the next morning, Marcus got changed into his workout clothes and made his way to the Room of Requirement. Once he was inside, he saw that Cedric was already starting to stretch.

"Morning, Cedric," said Marcus.

Cedric looked over and said, "Morning, Marcus! Ready to get back into the swing of things?"

"Oh, most definitely," said Marcus. "I can't wait to see what tonight's training is going to entail."

"Me neither," said a voice coming from the entrance.

Marcus looked to see -

"Good morning, Lorelei," said Marcus.

Lorelei gave a small smile as she said, "Good morning, Marcus." Looking between them both, she said, "Before we begin, how was everyone's time at the ball?"

"Oh," said Marcus. "Er - not bad, I suppose. Cedric?"

"I had a great time with Cho Chang," said Cedric with a wide smile.

"And did I hear right that you're her new boyfriend, Cedric?" Lorelei asked with a mischevious smile.

"Ah, as expected of Hogwarts' gossiping network," said Cedric. "Yes, it is true."

"Well, congrats, Cedric! Ms. Chang sounds like a really nice person!"

"That she is," said Cedric. "What about you, Marcus?"

"Huh?"

"I've heard you've started dating the Beauxbatons Champion," said Cedric. "That also true?"

"Er - um, yeah. Yes, that's true."

He side glanced at Lorelei, who smiled and said, "I'm happy for you, Marcus. Make sure to treat her well."

"Of course," said Marcus, who noticed something was off.

Her smile toward him was not a genuine, happy smile. Rather, it looked forced, as it didn't reach her eyes. Not only that, but he felt his heart dropping a bit. For her to cheer him in this manner...it didn't sit well with him, though he had no clue why...

"Well, before we begin, remember that we'll be meeting by the lakeside tonight," said Cedric. "We're pretty lucky that it'll be cloudy tonight, so no one should see us out and about."

"What do you have in mind, Cedric?" asked Marcus.

"Can't say, not yet," said Cedric, who was looking mischevious himself. "Anyway, let's get started!"

"Right!"

Throughout the workout, Marcus couldn't help but think about the Second Task. After all, it looked much closer being on the other side of Christmas and, despite knowing what was in store for him, wasn't too confident about completing it, at least not yet.

After their workout and magical training, Cedric left ahead of them, leaving Marcus and Lorelei walking toward the common room by themselves.

"I never got to ask how your time at the Ball was, Lorelei," said Marcus. "Did you have a good time?"

"Oh, it wasn't too bad," Lorelei simply stated. "I could tell Justin was doing his best to be a good date, and I appreciated it all the same, but - oh, I don't know..."

"What is it?"

"I didn't have the heart to tell him that I wasn't interested in him until the end of the ball when he asked me to be his girlfriend," she said, looking rather ashamed. "He's a nice guy and all, but it just wasn't meant to work out. I can't date a guy that I'm not interested in, after all."

"Well, I'm not exactly the greatest in that aspect of life, either," said Marcus, feeling a bit sheepish. "I guess...one step at a time, right?"

Lorelei looked at him and said, "Just promise me you'll treat Ms. Delacour right. You will, won't you?"

"You have my word, Lorelei," Marcus said, forcing a smile.

"Good," she said as they told the Fat Lady the password and entered the common room.

While Lorelei went back up to the girl's dormitory, Marcus took a seat on the couch nearest to the fireplace, wondering what exactly tonight's training was going to involve...

* * *

Hermione was making her way to the common room when she saw-

"Oh, good morning, Lorelei," Hermione said.

Lorelei, who was looking at the ground, diverted her gaze to Hermione and said, "Oh, yes, good morning."

"Just returned from your morning workout, I take it?"

"Oh, yes," Lorelei replied. "Today was leg day along with affinity training. I think I've made some great progress lately, you know."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Hermione. "How much progress is Marcus making?"

"Tons," said Lorelei, who started to (for some reason) choke a bit. "He seems to be getting further and further away, with all the training he does. Some days, it seems like I'll - I'll never catch up, you know?"

"Well, there is a lot riding on him this time around," Hermione stated, though she couldn't help but feel that Lorelei was alluding to something else. "You'll just have to work as hard as you possibly can. I'm sure the gap will close eventually."

"I - I sure hope so," she said, sounding most unlike her. "Um - excuse me."

Hermione then saw Lorelei hurrying to her dormitory, leaving her wanting to try and comfort her somehow, but knew that it was best to leave her alone for now. She instead to continue making her way to the common room...

* * *

Marcus was deep in thought when he heard someone say, "Oh, here you are, Marcus. I thought you'd have showered by now."

He looked to see Hermione sitting on his right.

"I thought I'd take a moment to think about some things before I cleaned up," he told her.

"Like what?"

"The Second Task, mostly," he stated.

"Anything else?"

"Well, last night, a little..."

"How did it go?"

"I - er - had a good time," he said hesitantly.

"Oh, so that means you're seeing the Beauxbatons Champion, then?"

"What the -?!" he looked at Hermione in shock, who was wearing a pensive look on her face. "How did you guess that?!"

"Call it an educated guess," said Hermione, who sounded a bit distracted. "Isn't it going to be complicated, being in a relationship with someone who you're competing against?"

"I'm not entirely sure," stated Marcus. "I'm new at this sort of thing, so I'll just have to figure it out when the time comes."

"Speaking of which," Hermione said, lowering her voice to a whisper. "You said you've already figured out the clue to the egg?"

"Yeah," said Marcus. "I'm working on my strategy currently."

She looked slightly relieved and said, "Well, thank goodness."

"Did Krum have anything to say in regard to me?"

Hermione looked slightly taken aback with this question.

"Well - er -"

"What did he say?"

Hermione sighed and said, "Honestly, he doesn't trust you. I don't think he sees any problems with you, per se, but he's really passionate about his Quidditch teammates and - well -"

"He took the loss so hard that I'm the scapegoat."

"Pretty much."

"I thought as much," said Marcus. "I don't have any problems with Krum, either. I just wish he'd get over that problem already."

"That won't be easy, you know."

"I'll figure something out, Hermione," said Marcus. "I always do."

He then got up from his seat and made his way to the showers when he ran into -

"Oh, Ron," said Marcus, caught by surprise.

Ron looked at him, then said, "I've got something to say."

Marcus kept silent as Ron continued, "Lorelei told me everything. And - well, I'm sorry. I didn't know that's all what happened."

"I would've thought the same thing, if I was in your shoes," Marcus told him. "Still, you should've clarified things with me."

"I know, mate," said Ron, who certainly looked guilty. "Still, this makes thing complicated for you."

"I'm well aware," said Marcus. "One step at a time, I suppose."

Ron could only nod his head as he made his way past Marcus and down into the common room.

By the time that Marcus was done with his shower, got dressed, got Twink up and fed and made his way into the common room, he saw that Lorelei, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were already sitting down in front of the fireplace. Once he joined them, Ron and Harry immediately recounted what they had overheard between Madame Maxime and Hagrid, but Hermione didn't seem all too shocked over the news that Hagrid was a half-giant.

"Well, I thought that he must be," she said, shrugging. "I knew he couldn't be pure giant because they're about twenty feet tall. But, honestly, all this hysteria about giants. They can't _all_ be horrible...It's the same sort of prejudice that people have toward werewolves...It's just bigotry, isn't it?"

Ron and Marcus shared a brief look of disbelief between them. While it was true that anyone who knew Hagrid would know better than to think he was a problem, the same couldn't be said for pure giants, which were responsible for some of history's worst events.

While everyone was focusing on completing the homework they've neglected before Christmas, Marcus sat on his bed, apart from everyone else, and perused through the book his Aunt Em gave him, seeing if there was anything he could possibly use for the second task.

 _"No...no...oh, most definitely not,"_ he thought, seeing the different techniques in the pages of the book. _"Ugh, most of it is best used in combat, not an underwater search quest."_

He then flipped to a page halfway between the book and thought, _"Oh, what's this? 'Wind Propulsion Technique'?"_

He then started from the top and mentally read, _"The Wind Propulsion Technique derives from manipulating the air around you, first formed from the palm of your hands to gather the air, then explosively release it to give yourself a speed boost. It can be used to suddenly deter eyesight in battle or - or -?!"_

He hardly believed it, but he read it over, just to make sure.

 _"Or to propel quickly through the water!"_ he thought, confirming the passage. _"This is it! This is the technique I must learn to succeed in the second task and -"_ He gulped before continuing, _"-to survive."_

That night, after avoiding the usual nightly security, he stood alongside the Black Lake, the same lake that he'd have to dive down in on the 24th of Feburary.

"Oh, good, you made it," he heard a voice say.

He turned to see that it was Lorelei.

"Of course," said Marcus. "This training involves preparations for the Second Task. Why wouldn't I be there?"

"Perhaps it would be due to fright," said another familiar voice.

Marcus turned to see Cedric walking toward them.

"You know me enough to know better than that," said Marcus. "Regardless, what does our training involve?"

Cedric cleared his throat, looked around to ensure that no one else was watching them, and said, "From now until the evening before the Second Task, we will be enabling the use of the Bubble Head Charm and building up your endurance to the water's temperature."

"The Bubble Head Charm?" asked Marcus.

"When cast, this charm will enable you to breathe underwater," Cedric told him. "It will form what will look like an upside down fishbowl of a bubble around your head. This will act as both a protective barrier around your head from the water and a filtration system of sorts. As long as you're a good swimmer and have this charm in place, you'll have no problems getting to the bottom of the lake and back within an hour."

"Um, actually, Cedric, I've been told by a reliable source that I only have a half-hour," Marcus said with great reluctance.

"Half the alloted time?!" Cedric said in shock. "But the egg said an hour!"

"This handicap is only for me, Cedric, and that's all I can say on the matter," Marcus told him. "Regardless, I have found a technique that'll alleviate this problem. The same concept as the one I use to summon flames."

"And what is this technique called?" Lorelei asked, sounding confused.

"The Wind Propulsion Technique," Marcus stated. "It works the same way as the Summon Flames technique...at least, I think it does. When activated, the release of pent-up wind will propel me forward through the air or through the water, though I'd have to keep this up for an extended period of time."

"Then you'll have to work on it outside of the water and master it before you can implement it through the water," said Cedric. "For now, let's focus on the Bubble Head Charm."

He then got his wand out and said, "The Bubble Head Charm's incantation is _Caput Bullae_. To correctly say the incantation, you'll have say it like such: Ka-put-a Bul-ai. Really put emphasis on the last syllable of the incantation to sound like the letter I."

Marcus summoned his wand and said, "Very well."

He took a deep breath, held his wand to his head, and said, " _Caput Bullae!"_

At once, a bubble resembling an upside down fishbowl formed around his head, making his every breath seem fresh and invigorating.

"Well done," said Cedric, smiling. "It's not a hard spell to cast, but it'll be vital to the Second Task. Now, change into swimming gear and get into the water."

Reluctantly, Marcus changed into swimming trunks and a black t-shirt and made his way into the water.

"Holy crap, this water's freaking freezing!" he yelped as he took the first couple of steps.

"That's the point," said Cedric, watching from afar. "We'll need you to adjust to being in the frigid temperature of the water now. That way, come late February, you'll have no problem dealing with it then."

"A-a-and h-h-how-w is-is th-th-that?" asked Marcus, his teeth chattering due to the freezing cold water.

"Even it's only slight, the water temperature will be different in Feburary," said Cedric. "Get used to the waters now, and you'll do much better then."

"G-g-got it-t-t," Marcus stated, who looked at the water and said, "W-w-well, he-her-e I g-g-go."

He then plunged himself underwater.

Thanks to the charm, he didn't have to worry about breathing, which was a relief, due to having to deal with the far bigger issue of the water's temperature.

He dove back above surface and said, "W-w-what the c-c-crap, Cedric?!"

"This may be a bit over the top, but this'll be necessary," said Cedric, who looked a bit concerned. "The last thing you need to worry about is the water's temperature. Overcome that first. By the time you do that, you should be able to master the Wind Propulsion Technique and implement the two together. But, this'll be enough tonight. We have to get back to our respective common rooms before anyone grows suspicious."

"R-r-right," said Marcus, quickly getting out of the water.

For the remainder of the holidays, in the mornings he'd try to use the Wind Propulsion Technique while undergoing physical training and magical betterment while trying to get use to the frigid water temperature in the evenings. While he was very slowly getting used to the water temperature, the same could not be said for the technique he was trying to implement.

The morning before the start of the term, he banged his fist against the wall of the Room of Requirement and said, "Damn it all, how am I not getting this?!"

"Calm down, Marcus!" Cedric told him, finishing his own workout. "There must be something different about this technique than the Summon Flames technique. Explain how you use the Summon Flames technique.

He enhanced his vision before replying, "As absurd as this sounds, I'm able to see the energy in the surrounding air necessary to carry out the Summon Flames tecnnique. I'm able to clearly picture the flames in my head and that's when the energy comes to my hands."

Cedric nodded a few times before saying, "So, essentially, you're able to carry it out due to what you picture in your mind?"

"That's right," said Marcus, not entirely sure where he was going with this.

"Then, you'll have to readjust your mental picture," said Cedric. "Try to picture yourself using the wind gathered in your palms to propel yourself forward. If done correctly, your vision should be able to pick up on the surrounding energy associated with the wind. It'll come down to focus, but you can do it."

"That makes sense," said Marcus, who closed his eyes.

He started to see himself flying through the air, over the castle and enroute to the clouds, without a care in the world.

He opened his eyes and saw that, along with the little red balls of energy, there was now grey balls of energy.

 _"This, this must be it!"_ Marcus thought, who concentrated on his mental image once more.

He could feel the energy of the wind gathering at the palm of his hands. More and more, he felt his hands moving toward the front of his body, despite trying to keep them at his sides. When he couldn't tolerate it anymore, he opened his eyes, flexed his fingers, and that when it happened.

He shot forward five feet instantly, surprising him so much that he nearly fell flat on his face.

"That was amazing!" said Lorelei, who watched the entire scene unfold before her.

"Truly spectacular!" said Cedric.

"My god, that took everything I had," Marcus said, looking at his hands in disbelief. "How am I supposed to master this in less than two months?!"

"The important thing is that you have a grasp for the technique, and the only thing you'll have to do is improve and refine it," said Lorelei.

"I think I found out something very interesting," said Cedric.

"Oh? What would that be?" asked Marcus.

"For one reason or another, you're able to use your imagination as a conduit," said Cedric. "In regards to your specific techniques, this is critical. The better you are at using your imagination, the better the technique will be."

"Ah, this does hold some merit," said Marcus. "Well, nowhere to go but up!"

After they finished the morning's workout, they met back up later that night next to the lake for the usual resiliancy training. It was still just as frigid as ever, but Marcus was able to bear it much better due to finally having lit the spark for the fire, so to speak.

* * *

Much too soon for his liking, the next day came, which meant the term had finally started. As such, he found himself carrying his books, parchment, and quills alongside the rest of the student body. He found himself thinking about the Second Task once again, but with a much better attitude than before, as he could see his strategy coming into place.

Snow was still thick upon the castle grounds, and the greenhouse windows were covered in condensation so thick that no one could see out of them during Herbology. Nobody was looking foward to Care of Magical Creatures in the slightest in this weather, though Ron did point out that the skrewts would probably warm them up nicely, either by chasing them, or blasting off so forcefully that Hagrid's cabin would catch fire.

When they arrived at Hagrid's cabin, however, they found an elderly witch with closely cropped gray hair and a very prominent chin standing before his front door.

"Hurry up, now, the bell rang five minutes ago," she barked at them as they struggled toward her through the snow.

Marcus immediately felt irritated by this person as he heard Ron ask, "Who're you? Where's Hagrid?"

"My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank," she said briskly. "I am your temporary Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

"Where's Hagrid?" Harry repeated loudly.

"He is indisposed," said Professor Grubbly-Plank shortly.

If he was getting angry from hearing this witch talk, it was nothing compared to hearing the soft and unpleasant laughter that reached his ears shortly afterwards. He turned to find Draco Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins just joining the class. All of them looked gleeful, and none of them looked surprised to see Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"This way, please," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and she strode off around the paddock where the Beauxbatons horses were shivering. Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed her, looking back over their shoulders at Hagrid's cabin. All the curtains were closed. Was Hagrid in there, alone and ill, by chance?

"What's wrong with Hagrid?" Harry said.

"Never you mind," she said as though she thought he was being nosy.

"We do mind, though," growled Marcus in anger. "What's up with him?"

Professor Grubbly-Plank acted as though she couldn't hear him, causing him to deepen his anger towards the eldery witch. She led them past the paddock where the huge Beauxbatons horses were standing, huddled against the cold, and toward a tree on the edge of the forest, where a large and beautiful unicorn was tethered.

Many of the girls "ooooohed!" at the sight of the unicorn.

"Oh it's so beautiful!" whispered Lavender Brown. "How did she get it? They're supposed to be really hard to catch!"

The unicorn was so brightly white it made the snow all around look grey, giving off the same brightness of Marcus' hair. It was pawing the ground nervously with its golden hooves and throwing back its horned head.

"Boys keep back!" barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, throwing out an arm and catching Harry hard in the chest. "They prefer the woman's touch, unicorns. Girls to the front, and approach with care, come on, easy does it..."

Marcus was beside himself with anger as he watched her and the girls walking slowly forward toward the unicorn, leaving the boys standing near the paddock fence, watching. The moment Professor Grubbly-Plank was out of earshot, Marcus saw Harry turning to him and Ron, asking, "What d'you guys reckon's wrong with him? You don't think a skrewt -?"

"Oh he hasn't been attacked, boys, if that's what you're thinking," said Malfoy softly. "No, he's just too ashamed to show his big, ugly face."

"What are going on about?" growled Marcus.

Malfoy put his hand inside the pocket of his robes and pulled out a folded page of newsprint.

"There you go," he said. "Hate to break it to you, boys..."

He smirked as Harry snatched the page, unfolded it, and read it, with Marcus, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville looking over his shoulder. It was an article topped with a picture of Hagrid looking extremely shifty.

 **DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE**

Albus Dumbledore, eccentric headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointment, _writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent_. In September of this year, he hired Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defense Against The Dark Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody's well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures.

Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since, a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates.

An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being "very frightening."

"I was attacked by a hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got a bad bite off a flobberworm," says Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year student. "We all hate Hagrid, but we're just too scared to say anything."

Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however. In conversation with a _Daily Prophet_ reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed "Blast-Ended Skrewts," highly dangerous crosses between manticores and fire-crabs. The creation of new breeds of magical creatures is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions.

"I was just having some fun," he says, before hasitly changing the subject.

As if this were not enough, the _Daily Prophet_ has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not - as he has always pretended - a pure-blood wizard. He is not, in fact, even pure human. His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown.

Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring amongst themselves during the last century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass Muggle killings of his reign of terror.

While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Fridwulfa's son appears to have inherited her brutal nature.

In a bizarre twist, Hagrid is reputed to have developed close friendships with the boys who brought around You-Know-Who's and The Dark Prince's respective falls from power - thereby driving Hagrid's own mother, like the rest of You-Know-Who's supporters, into hiding. Perhaps Harry Potter and Marcus Williams are unaware of the unpleasant truth about their large friend - but Albus Dumbledore surely has a duty to ensure that Harry Potter and Marcus Williams, along with their fellow students, is warned about the dangers of associating with part-giants.

Marcus, having finished reading it, looked at Ron, whose mouth was hanging open.

"How did she find out?" he whispered.

Regardless of how the foul reporter found that, something else was grating away at Marcus.

"What d'you mean, 'we all hate Hagrid'?" Marcus growled at Malfoy. "What's that bullcrap about _him"_ \- he pointed at Crabbe - "getting a bad bite off a flobberworm? They don't even have teeth!"

Crabbe was sniggering, apparently pleased with himself.

"Well, I think this should put an end to the oaf's teaching career," said Malfoy, his eyes glinting. "Half-giant...and there was me thinking he'd just swallowed a bottle of Skele-Gro when he was young...None of the mummies and daddies are going to like this at all...They'll be worried he'll eat their kids, ha, ha..."

"You -" Marcus started to growl.

"Are you paying attention over there?"

Marcus whipped his head to Professor Grubbly-Plank, who raised her voice to ensure that it carried over to the boys.

As the girls were all clustered around the unicorn, stroking it, Marcus said scathingly before he could stop himself, "And what's the point of paying attention to a lesson that doesn't benefit us at all?"

Professor Grubbly-Plank proceeded to walk towards them until she stood in front of Marcus and said, "I don't like your attitude, Mr. Williams."

"And I don't like your sexist lesson plan," retorted Marcus, "But, hey, this world isn't perfect."

"You just lost Gryffindor twenty points, Mr. Williams, for your lack of respect."

"Then perhaps my point didn't come across well enough," said Marcus. "This is what I think of your lesson."

He then proceed to flip her off, his middle finger right in her face.

Her face looked livid as she said in an even tone, "Make that thirty more points from Gryffindor and detention, Mr. Williams. I shall be sure to speak to Professor McGonagall."

"Don't leave out the juicy details, then," said Marcus, his anger quite evident. "Wouldn't want her to be misinformed!"

She proceeded to walk back over to the girls and began enumerating in a loud voice, so that the boys could hear too.

"I hope she stays, that woman!" said Parvati Patil when the lesson had ended and they were all heading back to the castle for lunch. "That's more what I thought Care of Magical Creatures would be like...proper creatures like unicorns, not monsters..."

"What about Hagrid?" Harry said angrily as they went up the steps.

"What about him?" said Parvati in a hard voice. "He can still be gamekeeper, can't he?"

Marcus then heard Hermione say when they entered in the Great Hall, "That was a really good lesson. I didn't know half the things Professor Grubbly-Plank told us about uni-"

"Look at this!" Harry snarled as he shoved the _Daily Prophet_ article under Hermione's nose.

Hermione's mouth fell open as she read. Her reaction was exactly the same as Ron's.

"How did that horrible Skeeter woman find out? You don't think Hagrid _told_ her?"

"No," said Harry, leading the way over to the Gryffindor table and throwing himself into a chair, no doubt still furious. "He never even told us, did he? I reckon she was so mad he wouldn't give her loads of horrible stuff about Marcus and I, she went ferreting around to get him back."

"Maybe she heard him telling Madame Maxime at the ball," said Hermione quietly.

"We'd have seen her in the garden!" said Ron. "Anyway, she's not supposed to come into school anymore, Hagrid said Dumbledore banned her..."

"Maybe she's got an Invisibility Cloak," said Harry, ladling chicken casserole onto his plate and splashing it everywhere in his anger. "Sort of thing she'd do, isn't it, hide in bushes listening to people."

"Like you and Ron did, you mean," said Hermione.

"We weren't trying to hear him!" said Ron indignantly. "We didn't have any choice! The stupid prat, talking about his giantess mother where anyone could have heard him!"

"And besides, Skeeter's not using an Invisibility Cloak," stated Marcus. "I've been looking all over the place with my enhanced vision whenever I can, and I haven't seen her."

"We've got to go and see him," said Harry. "This evening, after Divination. Tell him we want him back... you _do_ want him back?" he shot at Hermione.

"I - well, I'm not going to pretend it didn't make a nice change, having a proper Care of Magical Creatures lesson for once - but I do want Hagrid back, of course I do!" Hermione added hastily, quailing under the combined furious stares of Marcus and Harry.

Just as the four of them were leaving the Great Hall, Marcus heard a voice bark, "Williams!"

Marcus, feeling a foreboding chill coming up his spine, turned to see Professor McGonagall walking toward them with such a furious stare, it surprised him that he wasn't lit on fire from it.

"Oh, heh, Professor McGonagall, good afternoon," Marcus said, trying to play it cool.

"I have just been informed, Mr. Williams, that earlier this morning, you talked back to Professor Grubbly-Plank and then proceeded to shove a very rude gesture in front of her face," she stated with such a fury in her voice that Marcus felt thouroughly frightened. "Is this true?"

"Yes," said Marcus. "And I suppose she failed to mention the fact that her lesson was completely biased towards the girls in the class?"

"It doesn't matter, Williams," she barked, Marcus instictively taking a step back. "As long as she goes out of her way to step in and teach when she doesn't have to, you will at the very least hold your tongue and reserve yourself. Next time, bring up a complaint with me or the teacher of the class in a way that doesn't land you a detention!"

"Yes, ma'am," said Marcus, unable to say anything else.

"You will serve your detention with Professor Sprout on the third Saturday of this month, after dusk," Professor McGonagall informed him. "Don't be late."

As she turned back to the staff table, Hermione said, "You should've know better than to -"

"Don't even start, Hermione," Marcus stated. "Come on, let's go."

That evening, after dinner, the three of them left the castle once more and went down through the frozen grounds to Hagrid's cabin. They knocked, and Fang's booming barks answered.

"Hagrid, it's us!" Harry shouted, pounding on the door. "Open up!"

"Hagrid didn't answer. They could hear Fang scratching at the door, whining, but it didn't open. They hammered on it for ten more minutes; Ron even went and banged on the windows, but there was no response.

"What's he avoiding _us_ for?" Hermione said when they had finally given up and were walking back to the school. "He surely doesn't think we'd care about him being half-giant?"

But it did seem for a fact that Hagrid cared. After all, there were no signs of him all week, not even showing up for mealtimes at the staff table or going about doing his gamekeeping duties. Unfortunately, this meant that Professor Grubbly-Plank continued teaching Care of Magical Creatures classes. Malfoy was gloating at every possible opportunity.

"Missing your half-breed pal?" he kept whispering to Marcus and Harry whenever there was a teacher around, so that he was safe from their retaliation. "Missing the elephant-man?"

There was a Hogsmeade visit halfway through January, the same night Marcus was to serve his detention. When Harry told of his intent to go, Hermione looked very surprised.

"I just thought you'd want to take advantage of the common room being quiet," she said to him. "Really get to work on that egg."

"Oh I - I reckon I've got a pretty good idea what it's about now," Harry told her.

"Have you really?" said Hermione, looking impressed. "Well done!"

But Marcus could instantly tell that he lied to her. It more concerned him that Harry hadn't made any progress with his egg, let alone the Second Task. How was Harry going to take finding out about diving to the depth of the Black Lake and back if he waited until he was too late?

Saturday finally came, the day of the Hogsmeade visit. Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all left the castle together on Saturday and set off through the cold, wet grounds toward the gates. As they passed the Durmstrang ship moored in the lake, they saw Viktor Krum emerge onto the deck, dressed in nothing but swimming trunks. He was very skinny indeed, but apparently a lot tougher than he looked, because he climbed up onto the side of the ship, stretched out his arms, and dived, right into the lake.

"He's mad!" said Harry, staring at Krum's dark head as it bobbed out into the middle of the lake. "It must be freezing, it's January!"

Marcus, however, furrowed his eyebrows, thinking, _"Damn, Krum must've figured out the egg's clue, as well. If I'm right in thinking that Fleur has followed suit, the only one that doesn't know is Harry. What the hell is going on?!"_

"It's a lot colder where he comes from," said Hermione. "I suppose it feels quite warm to him."

"Yeah, but there's still the giant squid," said Ron. Marcus noticed that there was no note of anxiousness in his rather. Rather, it carried the sound of hopefulness. Hermione picked up on this and frowned.

"He's really nice, you know," she said. "He's not at all like you'd think, coming from Durmstrang. He likes it much better here, he told me...um, well, besides a certain someone, that is."

 _"Yeah, me,"_ Marcus thought, rolling his eyes.

Ron said nothing in this regard. While he hadn't brought up the topic since the Yule Ball, he did find a miniature arm under his bed on Boxing Day, which looked very reminiscent of a small model figure arm that wore Bulgarian Quidditch robes.

"Say, Marcus, why are you not going down to Hogsmeade with Ms. Delacour?" asked Hermione.

"She had to attend a lesson early this morning," stated Marcus. "She told me that she'd meet me in Hogsmeade in front of the Three Broomsticks. Said something about wanting to check out a store or something like that."

Sure enough, when the three of them made it through Hogsmeade, Marcus heard a familiar voice shout, "Mar-kees!"

He looked behind him to see Fleur, wearing her Beauxbatons uniform with her shawl wrapped around her head.

"Um, well, we'll be seeing you, Marcus!" Hermione cried as she started pushing the boys forward.

Marcus gave a nervous chuckle before turning to Fluer and said, **"Well, Fleur, where do you want to go?"**

 **"There is a store I've simply wanted to visit since I've arrived here,"** stated Fleur with relish. **"Come, I'll show you!"**

Taking his hand into hers, she led him through Hogsmeade until she found what she was looking for and said, **"Oh, look, Mar-kees! There it is! Do you see it?"**

Marcus looked where she was pointing and slightly blanched.

 **"Um, yeah, Fleur,"** said Marcus. **"But why that store?"**

 **"Because they have some of the best fabric in all of Europe!"** exclaimed Fleur. **"Let's go!"**

Marcus was not exactly looking forward to visiting Omnifabrics again, as his last visit was rather unnerving, but since Fleur wanted to go in, he had no choice.

Once they entered in the store, he heard the voice of Mr. Xerks say, "I was wondering when you'd enter my store again, Mr. Williams. Hello there, Ms. Fleur Delacour. Welcome to Omnifabrics!"

As the giant of a man approached them, Fleur looked to Marcus and asked, "You 'ave been here before?!"

"Ah, yes," said Marcus.

"He was here last year for the fitting of his Battle Suit," Mr. Xerks explained. "How's that holding up, by the way?"

"Wonderfully, Mr. Xerks!" Marcus explained.

Mr. Xerks smirked and said, "I'm glad to hear it. It's been one of my greatest works to date. So, Ms. Delacour, you're here to try on some of my products?"

 _"Oui,"_ she said.

"We'd better get right to it, then," said Mr. Xerks. "Madame Maxime only gave you two hours of free time before the next class begins and you already used 45 mintues of it getting here."

 _"Comment as-tu -?!"_ Fleur started to say.

"I'm merely informed, Ms. Delacour," said Mr. Xerks with a straight face. "Now, let's get you up on the platform."

Marcus slightly chuckled and sweatdropped as he thought, _"Nothing gets by this guy ever!"_

As Fleur was getting measured by a measuring tape acting of its own free will, Mr. Xerks said, "I must admit, you two are by far the most complicated couple I've met."

"How so?" asked Marcus.

"Not only are the both of you Triwizard Champions, but you're both different breeds, one that doesn't usually get along," he stated. "I mean, the Shieldhides and Veela go _way_ back in history, none of it being too pretty."

He was persuing through his catalog of fabrics when Fleur said angrily, "Even with Mar-kees being an American Sheeld-hide, zat does not make him a terrible being! 'E 'as many qualities zat make eem special!"

"Well, it helps that you're only quarter Veela, after all," stated Mr. Xerks, continuing to flip through the pages indifferently. "Anyone who'd be half-veela or more would really struggle being around him without attempting to kill him."

Marcus and Fleur shared a look of concern. He was most certainly caught off guard with this new information, though apart from Fleur, he didn't personally know any other Veelas off the top of his head.

"Though, it all depends on the person's genetic code and personality," continued Mr. Xerks. "There are veelas who are capable of holding their instincts down to where people don't notice anything. They're pretty rare, but they're out there."

"But, to pull off such a thing, zey would have to be incredibly well-trained!" exclaimed Fleur. "Training in which most Veela would not put zemselves through!"

"I wonder who would so such a thing?" asked Mr. Xerks, mostly to himself. "Measuring tape, get over here! You've measured her enough!"

Suddenly, the measuring tape zoomed over to Mr. Xerks, wrapped itself around a pencil, and started to write upon a nearby piece of paper.

"More hassel than he's worth sometimes," stated Mr. Xerks. "By the way, young Mr. Williams, where's your Star Child, Twink? I thought for sure he'd be practically clinging to you."

Not even bothering to know how Mr. Xerks knew about it, Marcus stated, "Ah, well, he wanted to come with me, but Lorelei wanted to spend time with him, so he's currently with her."

"And how come zou didn't think of letting precious lee-tle Twink spend time with _moi_?" asked Fleur, sounding very offended.

"Sorry about that, Fleur," said Marcus, feeling guilty. "I didn't want you to get distracted by looking after Twink. You're in your final year of schooling as well as competing in the tournament, after all."

"Well, make sure to bring _mignonne_ Twink along ze next time we are on a date," Fleur huffed.

"Of course," said Marcus, not sure of what else to say.

"Ah, here we are!" Mr. Xerks said, showing Fleur a picture of the dress he drew. "What do you think?"

Fleur's eyes shined as she said, " _Incroyable!_ Mar-kees, tell me what you theenk of zis dress!"

Mr. Xerks showed Marcus the picture of dress and immediately found himself blushing.

The dress in question was a simple, yet elegant flowing grey dress that shimmered with movement. He also noticed something else.

"This dress is really beautiful," Marcus remarked. "However, it looks really conforming around - er - certain areas."

Fleur then walked over to Marcus, bent down so that she was next to his right ear and whispered, "Zat - is - ze - point, darling."

Marcus found himself incredibly red in the face from blushing, to which Fleur giggled and kissed his right cheek.

She then turned to Mr. Xerks and asked, "When can I try ze dress on?"

"Actually, you can go in the back and get it put on you," stated Mr. Xerks. "Just follow the instructions listed on the wall and it'll go smoothly."

Fleur then proceeded to go into the back of the store and when she disappeared, Mr. Xerks said, "You know, young Mr. Williams, I could tell you what the results of her measurement were if you were curious."

"Ah, that's okay, I wasn't interested," Marcus told him, clearly lying through his teeth.

"Uh huh, sure," said Mr. Xerks, making Marcus a little on edge. No doubt he had picked up on Marcus' lie.

"There's no denying the complications of your relationship with her, though," continued Mr. Xerks. "How long do you think you can keep this up?"

"What was that?" Marcus stated, feeling a little on edge.

"The truth always reveals itself in the end, Marcus Williams," Mr. Xerks stated, looking at him as if he was staring straight into his soul. "She'll figure it out sooner or later."

Marcus gave Mr. Xerks a death stare, which was more bark than bite as he wasn't too sure he'd win against the giant store owner.

"Mar-kees, what do you think?" he heard Fleur say, who stepped out on the floor.

Marcus' jaw dropped.

The flowing grey dress that shimmered with movement matched perfectly with her hair, and it made her look like some sort of majestic work of art. He also noticed that dress conformed with her hips and chest. The dress was also made with a low cut in the chest area, which made Marcus avert his eyes due to not wanting to be exposed.

However, Fleur walked over to him, bent over to his right ear once more and whispered, "I do not mind, Mar-kees. After all, I want you to."

Marcus felt even more flushed from before, if that was even possible.

She turned to Mr. Xerks and asked, "How much for ze dress?"

"Five hundred galleons," said Mr. Xerks.

To this, Fleur grabbed a sack of galleons from her school uniform, put it on the counter, and said, "Here you go, Meester Xerks."

"Of course," said Mr. Xerks with a smile. "You'll want to change back into your clothes quickly, Ms. Delacour. You only have ten minutes to leave Hogsmeade and still make it back in time."

"Right," said Fleur, who hurried back to get changed.

"I have something else to tell you before you leave my shop, young Mr. Williams," said Mr. Xerks when Fluer once again disappeared into the back.

"What is it?"

"There is a spy in Hogwarts."

Marcus felt flabbergasted, but nonetheless said, "A spy? Who?"

"I don't know for sure," Mr. Xerks stated. "What I do know is you'll need to be on your guard. Considering the circumstances of you and Mr. Potter's entry into the Triwizard Tournament, there is someone pulling the strings. If you fail to stop the perpatrator in time, dire consequences will take place. Keep that in mind."

He felt lost for words. Certainly, he had his suspicions, but for Mr. Xerks to bring it out into the open was unnerving.

He saw Fleur emerge once more, wearing her Beauxbatons uniform, her new dress no doubt in the box she was now carrying.

"Well, this concludes our business, then," Mr. Xerks said with a smirk. "Best of luck to the both of you in the tournament. I look forward to its conclusion."

"Have - have a good day, Mr. Xerks," said Marcus as him and Fleur exited the shop.

As they stood in front of the pathway back to Hogwarts, Fleur said, **"Oh, I've got to get going now, unfortunately. We'll have to have a longer date next time with adorable Twink, right, darling?"**

 **"Of course,"** Marcus responded. **"I'll be looking forward to it."**

Fleur and Marcus kissed for a couple of seconds before she said, "Au revoir, Mar-kees!" and took off on the path back to Hogwarts.

Marcus smiled for a little bit before looking back to Hogsmeade and said, "Now, if I had to guess, I'd say Harry, Ron, and Hermione are at The Three Broomsticks. So, I'll go there."

He made his way to that pub and was only fifty feet away from entrance when he saw an odd sight.

Ludo Bagman, looking very much in a hurry, was standing in front of a most unpleasant figure: Rita Skeeter, wearing banana-yellow robes, her nails painted shocking pink, and accompained by her paunchy photographer. They were having a short conversation that he didn't pick up until he got closer.

"Mr. Bagman, perhaps an interview on the matter?" she called out to Bagman, who suddenly took off down the street faster than Marcus would have thought possible.

He then turned back to Skeeter, who somehow didn't notice him, and followed the duo into the pub, all the while listening in on the dubious reporter.

"It would appear that he didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what's he doing with a pack of goblins in tow anyway? Showing them the sights...what nonsense...he was always a bad liar. Reckon something's up? Think we should do a bit of digging? 'Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman...' Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo - we just need to find a story to fit it -"

He was about to say something to the wretched woman when someone else beat him to it.

"Trying to ruin someone else's life?" he heard Harry say loudly.

Marcus looked to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione sitting at a nearby table, all giving Skeeter death stares. When Rita Skeeter looked at him, her bespectacled eyes widened.

"Harry!" she said, beaming. "How lovely! Why don't you come and join -?"

"I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick," said Harry furiously. "What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?"

Rita Skeeter raised her heavily penciled eyebrow.

"Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my -"

"WHO CARES IF HE'S HALF-GIANT?!" Marcus roared behind her. "THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH HIM!"

The whole pub had gone quiet from Marcus' outburst. Madame Rosmerta was staring over from behind the bar, apparently oblivious to the fact that the flagon she was filling with mead was overflowing.

Rita Skeeter turned to face Marcus, her smile slightly flickering for a second, but then got it back quickly.

"Why, Marcus, I didn't see you there!" she said, all the while snapping open her crocodile-skin handbag, pulling our her Quick-Quotes Quill and said, "Perhaps you could give me an interview about the Hagrid _you_ know, Marcus? The man behind the muscle? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it."

"Absolutely not," growled Marcus through gritted teeth.

"Then perhaps the reason behind why you're dating the Beauxbatons Champion, Ms. Fleur Delacour, then?" she asked, her tone of voice taking a darker turn. "Perhaps it was her bewitching beauty or maybe dating her will give you the edge you need to win the tournament single-handedly, using her as a stepping stone to -?!"

Faster than anyone could comprehend, her quill and parchment lit up in flames and smoldered to the ground, and Rita Skeeter found herself staring at flames dancing in front of her face, flames in which was resting in the palm of Marcus' right hand.

"I don't care who sees me do it, wench," stated Marcus in such a dark tone he never used before. "Make one wrong step against me, and I'll send you straight to Hell."

As Marcus dissipated the flames, Hermione abruptly stood up, her butterbeer clutched like a grenade.

"You horrible woman," she said, through gritted teeth, "you don't care, do you, anything for a story, and anyone will do, won't they? Even Ludo Bagman -"

"Sit down, you silly girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand," said Rita Skeeter coldly, her eyes hardening as they fell upon Hermione. "I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl... _not_ that it needs it -" she added, eyeing Hermione's bushy hair.

"Let's go," said Hermione, "c'mon, Marcus - Harry - Ron..."

They left; many people were staring at them as they went. Marcus looked back to see that Rita Skeeter pulled out a fresh Quick-Quote Quill, zooming back and forth over a fresh bit of parchment on the table.

"She'll be after you next, Hermione," said Ron in a low and worried voice as they walked quickly back up the street.

"Let her try!" said Hermione defiantly; she was shaking with rage. "I'll show her! Silly little girl, am I? Oh, I'll get her back for this. First Harry, then Hagrid, now Marcus..."

"You don't want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter," said Ron nervously. "I'm serious, Hermione, she'll dig up something on you -"

"My parents don't read the _Daily Prophet_. She can't scare me into hiding!" said Hermione, now striding along so fast that it was all the boys could do to keep up with her. The last time Marcus saw her in a fit of rage like this, she went and caved in Malfoy's face. "And Hagrid isn't hiding anymore! He should _never_ have let that excuse for a human being upset him! Come _on_!"

Breaking into a run, she led them all the way back up the road, through the gates flanked by winged boars, and up through the grounds to Hagrid's cabin.

The curtains were still drawn, and they could hear Fang barking as they approached.

"Hagrid!" Hermione shouted, pounding on his front door. "Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you're just being -"

The door opened. Hermione said, "About t -!" and then stopped, very suddenly, due to finding herself face-to-face, not with Hagrid, but with Albus Dumbledore.

"Good afternoon," he said pleasantly, smiling down at them.

 _"Oh, yeah, this isn't awkward or anything,"_ Marcus thought to himself.

"We - er - we wanted to see Hagrid," said Hermione in a rather small voice.

"Yes, I surmised as much," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Why don't you come in?"

"Oh...um...okay," said Hermione.

She, Marcus, Ron and Harry went into the cabin; Fang launched himself upon Harry the moment he entered, barking madly and trying to lick his ears. While Harry was fending off Fang, Marcus looked around.

Hagrid was sitting at his table, where there were two large mugs of tea. He looked an absolute mess. His face was blotchy, his eyes swollen, and he had gone to the other extreme where his hair was concerned; far from trying to make it behave, it now looked like a wig of tangled wire.

"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry.

"'Lo," he said in a very hoarse voice.

"More tea, I think," said Dumbledore, closing the door behind Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, drawing out his wand, and twiddling it; a revolving tea tray appeared in midair along with a plate of cakes. Dumbledore magicked the tray onto the table, and everybody sat down. There was a slight pause, and then Dumbledore said, "Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?"

Hermione went slightly pink, but Dumbledore smiled at her and continued, "Hermione, Marcus, Harry and Ron still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door."

"Of course we still want to know you!" Harry said, staring at Hagrid. "You don't think anything that Skeeter cow - sorry, Professor," he added quickly, looking at Dumbledore.

"I have gone temporary deaf and haven't any idea what you said, Harry," said Dumbledore, twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ceiling.

"Er - right," said Harry sheepishly. "I just meant - Hagrid, how could you think we'd care what that - woman - wrote about you?"

As Marcus watched two fat tears leaking out of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes and falling slowly into his tangled beard, he could barely keep himself together. Here was the nicest, kindest soul he ever met so far in his life, only wanting to help others and do his best, despite everything that has happened to him, and he was reduced to isolating himself in his cabin and miserably crying because of something that he had absolutely no control over. Marcus used every fiber of his being not to cry, his hands balled into fists.

"Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid," said Dumbledore, still looking carefully up at the ceiling. "I have shown you the letters from the countless parents who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it -"

"Not all of 'em," said Hagrid hoarsely. "Not all of 'em wan' me ter stay."

"Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I'm afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time," said Dumbledore, now peering sternly over his half-moon spectacles. "Not a week has passed since I became headmaster of this school when I haven't had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?"

"Yeh - yeh're not half-giant!" said Hagrid croakily.

"Hagrid, look what I've got for relatives!" Harry said furiously. "Look at the Dursleys!"

"An excellent point," said Professor Dumbledore. "My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery..."

"Come back and teach, Hagrid," said Hermione quietly, "please come back, we really miss you."

Hagrid gulped. More tears leaked out down his cheeks and into his tangled beard.

Dumbledore stood up. "I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday," he said. "You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all."

Dumbledore left the cabin, pausing only to scratch Fang's ears. When the door had shut behind him, Hagrid began to sob into his dustbin-lid-sized hands. While Hermione kept patting his arm, Marcus realized that a tear was streaking down his left cheek. He quickly wiped it away and, when he was finished with that, Hagrid finally looked up, his eyes very red indeed, and said, "Great man, Dumbledore...great man..."

"Yeah, he is," said Ron. "Can I have one of these cakes, Hagrid?"

"Help yerself," said Hagrid, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. "Ar, he's righ', o' course - yeh're all righ'...I bin stupid...my ol' dad woulda in ashamed o' the way I've bin behavin'..." More tears leaked out, but he wiped them away more forcefully, and said, "Never shown you a picture of my old dad, have I? Here..."

Hagrid got up, went over to his dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a picture of a short wizard with Hagrid's crinkled black eyes, beaming as he sat on top of Hagrid's shoulder. Hagrid was a good seven or eight feet tall, judging by the apple tree behind him, but his face was beardless, young, round, and smooth - he looked hardly older than eleven.

"Tha' was taken jus' after I got inter Hogwarts," Hagrid croaked. "Dad was dead chuffed...thought I migh' not be a wizard, see, 'cos me mum...well, anyway. 'Course, I never was great shakes at magic, really...but at least he never saw me expelled. Died, see, in me second year...

"Dumbledore was the one who stuck up for me after Dad went. Got me the gamekeeper job...trusts people, he does. Gives 'em second chances...tha's what sets him apar' from other Heads, see. He'll accept anyone at Hogwarts, s'long as they've got the talent. Knows people can turn out okay even if their families weren'...well...all tha' respectable. But some don' understand that. There's some who'd always hold it against yeh...there's some who'd even pretend they just had big bones rather than stand up an' say - I am what I am, an' I'm not ashamed. 'Never be ashamed,' my ol' dad used ter say, 'there's some who'll hold it against you, but they're not worth botherin' with.' An' he was right. I've bin an idiot. I'm not botherin' with _her_ no more, I promise yeh that. Big bones...I'll give her big bones."

Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked at one another nervously; Marcus would rather take on fifty Blast-Ended Skrewts in a fight to the death rather than admitting to Hagrid that he knew about his conversation with Madame Maxime. Luckily, the visual exchange went unnoticed by Hagrid, for he was still talking, unaware that he brought up something odd.

"Yeh know wha', Harry?" he said, looking up from the photograph of his father, his eyes very bright, "when I firs' met you, you reminded me o' me a bit. Mum and Dad gone, an' you was feelin' like yeh wouldn' fit in at Hogwarts, remember? Not sure yeh were really up to it..."

He looked at Marcus and said, "Luckily, you had a friend in Marcus here. And now look at yeh, boys! School champions!"

He looked at them both for a moment and said, very seriously, "Yeh know what I'd love, Harry, Marcus? I'd love yeh both ter win, I really would. It'd show 'em all...yeh don' have to be pureblood to do it. Yeh don' have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It'd show 'em Dumbledore's the one who's got it righ', lettin' anyone in as long as they can do magic. How you doing with those eggs, boys?"

"Great," said Harry. "Really great."

"Fantastic, even," Marcus added.

Hagrid's miserable face broke into a wide, watery smile.

"Tha's the way, boys...you show 'em, Harry, Marcus, you show 'em. Beat 'em all."

As they were making their way back to the castle, Marcus and Harry were walking behind Ron and Hermione.

"I don't care how you figure out that egg, Harry," he told him in the most serious manner he could muster. "Figure it out somehow, because I will not see Hagrid be miserable like that again."

Harry only vaugely nodded, no doubt being lost in thought.

Believing in Harry, Marcus then thought, _"If nothing else, I'll win this tournament for Hagrid's sake."_

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Feel free to leave a review on the story, as this will help me refine my writing skills. Also, if you have any questions you'd like to ask me, do not hesitate to send me a PM. Otherwise, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


	26. (26) Natural Learning

**Welcome, everyone, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Not much to add except...**

 **Disclaimer: No ownership of HP, save for OC's. That's odd, I swear I've heard this song and dance before somewhere...**

 **With that, here's...**

Chapter 26: Natural Learning

 **Enjoy!**

Marcus was looking forward to his Second Task training with his renewed determination so much, he completely forget about the detention he was supposed to do that night until he ran into Professor McGonagall at dinner, reminding him to not be late for it.

"Of all things, Marcus, a detention?" said Lorelei while they were eating dinner. "You know you have to make use of every minute you can get your hands on!"

"I know, I know," said a guilty Marcus. "I'm hoping it doesn't take that long, honestly. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll be back in time for tonight's betterment training."

"I'm not sure," Lorelei stated. "I heard that the last student who did detention with her was at it all night."

"Eh?! Seriously?!"

"That's just what I heard, anyway."

"But I can't be spending all night doing detention!" Marcus exclaimed.

"Should've thought of that before running your mouth off at Professor Grubbly-Plank, then," said Hermione, who joined Marcus and Lorelei at the Gryffindor table alongside Harry and Ron.

"What's done is done," said Marcus, who just finished off his meal. "Lorelei, go ahead and tell Cedric about the circumstances. I'll see what I can do about tonight."

"Right," said Lorelei as Marcus got up from the table and left the Great Hall.

Sure enough, at sunset, Marcus was standing outside the greenhouses, waiting on Professor Sprout.

 _"I just simply can't resist looking at the sunset...even if it's cold,"_ Marcus thought as he gave off a bit of a shiver.

Just then, he heard, "Ah, Williams, there you are!"

He turned to see Professor Sprout emerging from greenhouse three with a smile on her face.

"Ah, hello, Professor," said Marcus.

"Good to see that you're here," she stated with her continued smile. "Come now, let's not delay! This is supposed to be your detention, after all. Follow me, please."

"Um, right," he stated as the two of them made their way into greenhouse three.

"Um, what exactly am I doing?" he asked.

"You'll be moving these bags of high grade fertilizer I've just received the other day," she stated, gesturing to the numerous bags against a wall of the greenhouse. "I need them to be in greenhouse one, but I simply don't have the strength to move them on my own."

Baffled by the simplicity of the task, he looked at the bags and remarked, "Well, it can't be _that_ hard. They're not even that big."

"Don't let the size fool you, Williams," she stated.

Shrugging her statement, he took a bag and picked it up. As he was doing so, he noticed something exteremly shocking.

"What the -?! It's like trying to pick up a boulder!"

"I told you," said Professor Sprout. "I was worried I'd never be able to move them, but then I heard you were available."

"How nice of Professor McGonagall," he sarcastically remarked as he struggled to put it on his shoulders.

"I can't even move them by magic," she stated. "The properties of the fertilizer doesn't allow outside magic to work properly, but I couldn't have asked for better fertilizer. Should last me for the rest of the school year, this lot."

He went to greenhouse one, put the fertilizer in the box off in a corner, went back to greenhouse three, and said, "Well, one down. How many to go?"

"About 119," she stated with a smile.

 _"WHAT THE SHIT?!"_ he thought, his jaw nearly dropping to the ground. _"Ugh, this will end up taking all night!"_

For the longest time, Professor Sprout monitored Marcus moving the bags, as he was informed that the bags used to contain the fertilizer were also fragile.

However, she eventually said, "By the way, Williams, how are you faring along with the next task of the tournament?"

"Fairly well," he panted, having just placed his sixty-fourth bag of fertilizer in greenhouse one. Beads of sweat running down his face, he continued, "I'll just need a bit more time to perfect my strategy."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Professor Sprout. "Cedric's always talking highly of you, you know."

"I'm sure it's greatly exaggerated."

He was about to pick up the next bag of fertilizer when he looked back at the Herbology Professor and asked, "Professor, what made you want to go into Herbology?"

She sighed and responded, "It was my father."

"Your father?"

"Oh, yes," she stated. "He was always fascinated with nature, took joy in knowing how things were able to grow and so on and so forth. He often took me on his travels, explaining all that he could, until I developed the very same fascination with nature."

"He must've been an interesting wizard."

"Oh, he was a Muggle," she stated. "My mother was the witch."

"Huh?!"

"He studied nature as his way of making a living," she stated. "Oh, what did he call it? Ah, yes. 'Geological Scientist', he called himself.

Unable to suppress his curiosity, he asked, "What kind of things did he tell you?"

"Oh, all sorts of things," said Professor Sprout. "For example, he told me the makeup of air and water share a similiar composition."

This caught Marcus' attention.

"How so?" he asked with an edge of eagerness.

"He told me that, at a level that can't be viewed with the human eye, lies these things called 'atoms'," she explained, getting into her element as a teacher. "And the atoms that both water and air share is 'oxygen'. The same component of the air that we breath can also be found in water. Isn't that simply amazing?"

"Yeah, it is," said Marcus, who was suddenly throwing himself into deep thought.

"Also -" she started to say, but then looked down at the time and said, "Oh, goodness, what am I doing? You're supposed to be serving your detention! Chop chop!"

 _"Damn it all,"_ thought Marcus as he proceeded to continue with the bags of fertilizer.

* * *

 **Four hours later...**

"Oh-my-God," said Marcus, panting. "That was torturous!"

"Well, you've really been ever so helpful, Mr. Williams," said Professor Sprout with a smile. "Now, what have we learned from all of this?"

"Pay teachers the proper respect," stated Marcus, aching all over.

"Glad to hear it," she said. "This concludes your detention, Mr. Williams. Good luck in your next tournament task!"

As he was walking to the front doors, he was constantly thinking about what Professor Sprout said to him and he found himself looking at the Black Lake.

 _"Perhaps I can take a slight detour,"_ he thought.

He made sure to cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself before proceeding to the edge of the Black Lake upon which he released the charm he placed on himself.

It looked quite ominous in the middle of the night, looking more like a dark portal than anything else. However, he skimmed the surface of the lake with his hand, feeling the rather icy touch to his skin, the ripples skimming around it, going further and further out.

 _"If, indeed, the air and water share similar structural properties, then perhaps I could use this to my advantage,"_ he thought, continuing to skim the surface with his hand. _"If I take the structural properties of the water and contribute that to the 'Wind Propulsion Technique', it might even enhance it that much more."_

He enhanced his vision and thought, _"Well, time to put it to the test."_

With that, he put both hands into the water and concentrated on attempting to draw from the power of the water to enhance the technique.

The results were immediate: an explosive amount of energy was gathering quickly to the palms of his hands and, just as quickly, released it, causing his hands to rocket out of the water to the point of nearly making him flip head over heels.

However, he stopped himself in time, keeping himself to his feet, staring at his hands in awe.

 _"This,"_ he thought, continuing to stare at his hands, _"this will be the advantage I need to do well in the Second Task! All I need to do is master this technique and refine my navigation in the water with it, and I'll ace this!"_

Feeling a small victory on his side, he went to the castle in high spirits, despite still feeling sore from his detention with Professor Sprout. He was such in high spirits that it caught him off guard to hear a most unwanted voice say, "And just what do you think you're doing at this hour, Mr. Williams?"

He focused on the source of the voice to find Professor Snape, standing near the dungeon entrance with what appeared to be a victorious smile on his face.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," Marcus stated, trying to be as polite as possible.

As Snape proceeded to make his way to Marcus, he stated, "Not even I would think that you'd be so bold as to sneak around in the open, Mr. Williams. Perhaps you've gotten overconfident with yourself."

"I'm merely returning to Gryffindor Tower from my detention, Professor," stated Marcus, trying his best to keep an even tone.

"Such an obvious lie, Mr. Williams," Snape sneered. "I would think you'd come up with something more believable than that."

"Then perhaps you'd like to ask Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout. They are the ones who set up my detention. Regardless, I have no reason to sneak around, so I'd best be on my way back to Gryffindor Tower."

He started to make his way to the staircase when he heard Snape say, "Not...so fast, Mr. Williams."

He turned to face Snape, who took a bottle of potion from his robes and dangled it a bit.

"Recognize this?"

Without missing a beat, Marcus stated, "That's Veritaserum. It forces the drinker to tell nothing but the truth from just a few drops."

"Exactly," said Snape. "Keep in mind, Mr. Williams, if you continue to lie to me in the future, I may just accidently...slip...some into your morning pumpkin juice."

"Until then, however, have a good rest of the night," stated Marcus.

Up and up the stairs he went, hardly paying any mind to Snape's threat. Perhaps it was good that Snape didn't know about his intolerance to potions unless tested by his blood, but he also knew that Snape wouldn't dare try to do something to that degree with so many watchful eyes around him, most notably Professor Moody.

Eventually, he was able to return to Gryffindor Tower, giving the Fat Lady the password, and made his way into the common room to find Lorelei sitting on the couch nearest to the fireplace, keeping Twink occupied.

Upon his entrance, however, Twink floated to see who came in and, seeing that it was Marcus, flew straight to him, landing on his left shoulder and rocking in joy.

"Marcus, you've returned," said Lorelei, getting up from the couch. "How was it?"

"Challenging," he responded. "She had me move bags of fertilizers that weighed like boulders. My whole body's sore. One good thing did come out of it."

"What's that?"

"I've nearly perfected my 'Wind Propulsion Technique.'"

"Already?!"

Marcus looked around to ensure he wasn't being overheard before continuing, "Yep, now I need to start using it in the water for my strategy to come together. I don't want to wait, but I'm not even sure I can do any training with this sore body."

Lorelei cupped her hand to her chin, deep in thought, before saying, "Let's meet at the lake anyway. I may have a solution for your sore body."

"If you say so, I believe you," said Marcus with a smile.

Her cheeks took on a rosy color, but she said, "In the meantime, you should get some sleep. We'll be waking up early and every hour counts."

"Right," said Marcus. "Goodnight, Lorelei."

"Good night, Marcus."

He then turned to make his way up to the dormitory. With each step up to the dormitory, the only thing he could keep his mind on was how well the results of his Second Task training would turn out.

* * *

Early next morning, he made his way to the edge of the Black Lake before sunrise, looking at the lake, with only the Second Task on his mind.

"Good morning, Marcus!"

Marcus saw that Cedric and Lorelei were approaching behind them, in casual clothing.

"Good morning," he said back.

"Your body still sore from last night?" Cedric asked.

"Unfortunately," stated Marcus. "I fear it'll be sore for at least a few more days."

"About that," said Lorelei, who raised a bottle of what appeared to be a sort of smoothie, "I've put this together for you. It's a - er - homemade recipe. It should speed up your muscular recovery."

"Really?!" Marcus said, looking at the concotion in the bottle. He gently took it from Lorelei, uncorked it, and said, "Well, bottoms up."

Marcus made sure to drink every single drop of the concotion smoothie, which tasted unbelievably delicious. It was like every vegetable he could think of came together and formed this smoothie.

Once he finished, something amazing happened.

Not only could he rapidly feel the soreness go away, but he also felt revitalized to the point of having almost excess energy.

"Oh my goodness, I feel great!" Marcus stated, handing the bottle back to Lorelei. "I'm all ready for training! Thank you so much, Lorelei!"

"You're - You're welcome," said Lorelei, who look quite startled.

As he was ready for the lake, wearing a black shirt and black swimming trunks, he said with his battle grin, "All right, then, let's do it!"

Applying his previous knowledge, his training, and what he learned last night, he blasted off the ground to get himself twenty feet in the air.

Summoning his wand, he pointed to his head and said, _"Caput Bullae!"_

The upside down fishbowl of a bubble quickly formed and, as quickly as he shot himself up, he rocketed back down, shooting himself into the water.

His "Wind Propulsion Technique" only got stronger as he started to rapidly go down into the Black Lake.

 _"Shoot, this is too deep right now!"_ thought Marcus. _"How do I make myself go back up?!"_

He had to mess around with the direction of his palms, but eventually, he made himself rocket back up until he found himself leaping out of the water.

 _"All right!"_ thought Marcus. _"Let's keep going!"_

As they saw Marcus going back under the surface of the Lake, Cedric said, "You did say that your homemade recipe was only to alleviate his soreness, right?"

"That's exactly what it's _supposed_ to do," said Lorelei, looking between the bottle and the lake. "But for him to get instantly better...it's just - just -?"

"Absolutely astounding," said Cedric, smiling. "Just when I think that I've figured him out, he turns around and takes me by surprise. If I may be so bold, he'll go on to do amazing things so long as he has his head on straight."

"Yeah," said Lorelei, clearly worried. "That makes me glad...and scared."

"Scared?" said Cedric, looking at her.

"Yes, I'm confident that Marcus is going to do amazing things," stated Lorelei. "However, what's in store for him - rather, against him - is capable of such feats and more."

"Oh," said Cedric. He then truly realized Lorelei's words and said in a darker tone, "Oh, right. I nearly forgot."

They then stood on the snowy ground near the lake in silence, watching Marcus occasionally rocket from the surface and just as quickly go back under.

It was a half hour later that Marcus returned to the edge of the lake, looking quite cold, but otherwise very happy.

"I think I'm getting the hang of my overall strategy, guys," said Marcus, giving off a little bit of a shiver. He then looked confused as he said, "Guys?"

Cedric and Lorelei still had looks of concern on their faces. When jarred by Marcus' voice, they smiled and Lorelei said, "Your strategy is really coming together!"

"I'm excited to see the results come late February," said Cedric.

"I'll still need time to perfect my underwater manuevering," stated Marcus. "But, for the first time, I'm pretty excited. However -" he then huddled himself, his shivering increased "- it's getting incredibly cold. Let's go back inside the castle and get warmed up."

The next four days made for some great progress, not only in training for the tournament, but in the classroom and personal betterment, as well. Whether was it due to his rising self-confidence or knowing he had a great support system in Lorelei and Cedric, his spirits were in a place that he hadn't felt since getting sucked into the tournament.

In fact, late Thursday night, enroute to the Gryffindor Tower, he thought, _"Oh, man, I really didn't think I'd be this prepared already! And I still have another month to refine my strategy! This'll be -?!"_

He then heard a familiar voice growl, "On the contrary, it is very important. Who'd want to break into your office?"

He then gave an almost silent gasp as he thought, _"Crap, I didn't realize how late it was! Better put myself under the Disillusionment Charm!"_

As he blankted by invisibility, he heard the voice of Snape respond, "A student, I daresay. It has happened before. Potion ingredients have gone missing from my private store cupboard...students attempting illicit mixtures, no doubt..."

"Reckon they were after potion ingredients, eh?" said Moody. "Not hiding anything else in your office, are you?"

Marcus was hiding behind a nearby statue, craning his neck just enough to see Snape's sallow face turning a rather nasty brick color, the vein in his temple pulsing more rapidly.

"You know I'm hiding nothing, Moody," he said in a soft and dangerous voice, "as you've searched my office pretty thoroughly yourself."

Marcus could also see Moody's face twisting into a smile as he said, "Auror's privilege, Snape. Dumbledore told me to keep an eye -"

"Dumbledore happens to trust me," said Snape through clenched teeth. "I refuse to believe that he gave you orders to search my office!"

"'Course Dumbledore trusts you," growled Moody. "He's a trusting man, isn't he? Believes in second chances. But me - I say there are spots that don't come off, Snape. Spots that never come off, d'you know what I mean?"

Snape suddenly seized his left forearm convulsively with his right hand, as though something on it had hurt him.

 _"Wait a minute,"_ thought Marcus. _"Why would Snape grab his left arm like that, especially after Moody's comment? Hold on...people that would have any sort of markings on their left arm would be -?!"_

Marcus had to quietly clasp his hands over his mouth to conceal his surprise as Moody laughed.

"Get back to bed, Snape."

"You don't have the authority to send me anywhere!" Snape hissed, letting go of his arm as though angry with himself. "I have as much right to prowl this school after dark as you do!"

"Prowl away," said Moody, but his voice was full of menace. "I look forward to meeting you in a dark corridor some time...You've dropped something, by the way..."

Marcus looked to where Moody was pointing and, to his horror, recognized the parchment lying on the nearby staircase to be the Marauder's Map.

 _"That's Harry's map!"_ Marcus thought, enhancing his vision. _"That means he's around here somewhere!"_

He looked until until he found the aura of Harry, sunken into the staircase with the Invisibility Cloak over him.

 _"That's quite the predicament he's put himself in,"_ thought Marcus. _"And I obviously can't help him, not with all these figures around."_

He saw Snape reaching out for the parchment, a horrible expression of dawning comprehension on his face -

 _"Accio Parchment!"_

The map flew up into the air, slipped through Snape's outstreched fingers, and soared down the stairs into Moody's hand.

"My mistake," Moody said calmly "It's mine - must've dropped it earlier -"

He then saw Snape's black eyes darting from a place Marcus couldn't see to the map in Moody's hands, and he seemed to be putting the pieces together.

"Potter," Snape said quietly.

"What's that?" said Moody calmly, folding up the map and pocketing it.

"Potter!" Snape snarled, and he suddenly looked to the staircase, as if he knew exactly where Harry was. "That egg is Potter's egg. That piece of parchment belongs to Potter. I have seen it before, I recognize it! Potter is here! Potter, in his Invisibility Cloak!"

Snape stretched out his hands like a blind man and began to move up the stairs. Marcus saw that he was getting closer until his outstretching hand was merely inches away from Harry -

"There's nothing there, Snape!" barked Moody, "but I'll be happy to tell the headmaster how quickly your mind jumped to Harry Potter!"

"Meaning what?" Snape turned again to look at Moody, his hands still outstretched, still inches away from Harry.

"Meaning that Dumbledore's very interested to know who's got it in for that boy!" said Moody, limping nearer still to the foot of the stairs. "Him and Williams. So am I, for that matter, Snape...very interested..."

The torchlight flickered across his mangled face, so that the scars, and the chunk missing from his nose, looked deeper and darker than ever.

Snape was looking down at Moody, and Marcus could see that he was greatly hesitant. No one did anything for a moment. Eventually, Snape slowly lowered his hands.

"I merely thought," said Snape, in a voice of forced calm, "that if Potter was wandering around after hours again...it's an unfortunate habit of his...Williams as well. They should be stopped. For - for their own safety."

"Ah, I see," said Moody softly. "Got Potter's and Williams' best interests at heart, have you?"

There was a pause. Snape and Moody were still staring at each other. Marcus heard Mrs. Norris giving out a loud meow, which made him realize that Filch must've been in the area he couldn't see.

"I think I will go back to bed," Snape said curtly.

"Best idea you've had all night," said Moody. "Now, Filch, if you'll just give me that egg -"

"No!" said Filch. "Professor Moody, this is evidence of Peeves' treachery!"

"It's the property of the champion he stole it from," said Moody. "Hand it over, now."

Marcus made sure to keep himself absolutely still as he saw Snape sweeping downstairs, passing by Moody without another word. Filch made a chirruping noise to Mrs. Norris, who stared blankly at Harry for a few seconds before turning and following her master. As Snape was whisking away out of sight, Filch handed Moody the egg and disappeard from view too, muttering to Mrs. Norris. "Never mind, my sweet...we'll see Dumbledore in the morning...tell him what Peeves was up to..."

A door slammed. Marcus was left looking between Harry and Moody, who placed his staff on the bottommost stair and started to climb laboriously toward him, a dull _clunk_ on every other step.

"Close shave, Potter," Marcus heard Moody mutter.

"Yeah...I - er...thanks," said Harry weakly.

"What is this thing?" said Moody, drawing the Marauder's Map out of his pocket and unfolding it.

"Map of Hogwarts," said Harry.

"Merlin's beard," Moody whispered, staring at the map, no doubt his magical eye going haywire. "This...this is some map, Potter!"

"Yeah, it's...quite useful," Harry said. His eyes were starting to water. "Er - Professor Moody, d'you think you could help me -?"

"What? Oh! Yes...yes, of course..."

He then looked over in Marcus' direction and said, "Williams, mind giving me a hand?"

Marcus sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get past him, released the Disillusionment Charm and made his way over to them. The both of them grabbed Harry's arms and pulled, Harry's leg becoming free of the trick step, and he climbed onto the one above it. Moody was still gazing at the map.

"How come you're out, Marcus?" Harry asked.

"Oh, you know, midnight stroll, couldn't sleep," said Marcus, not willing to tell him the truth just yet.

"Potter..." Moody said slowly, "you didn't happen, by any chance, to see who broke into Snape's office, did you? On this map, I mean?"

"Er...yeah, I did..." Harry admitted. "It was Mr. Crouch."

While Moody's magical eye whizzed over the entire surface of the map, Marcus looked at Harry with wide eyes.

"Crouch?! Of all people?!" Marcus asked.

"You're - you're sure, Potter?"

Marcus looked at Moody, who suddenly looked alarmed, but for what reason, Marcus didn't know.

"Positive," said Harry.

"Well, he's not here anymore," said Moody, his eye still whizzing over the map. "Crouch...that's very - very interesting..."

Marcus studied Moody's face while the teacher remained silent, still staring at the map. This bit of news Harry revealed meant a great deal to Moody, though the kind of face the teacher was making did not sit well with Marcus. Much of his facial contortion was of focus, but there was also a bit of worry and perhaps an ever-so-slight facet of fear.

 _"There's nothing for Professor Moody to be afraid of,"_ thought Marcus. _"Nevertheless, he's on edge."_

"Professor," Marcus said, "Why do you suppose Mr. Crouch would want to look around Snape's office?"

Moody's magical eye left the map and fixed, quivering, upon Marcus. It was a penetrating stare, and Marcus had the distinct impression that Moody was sizing him up, wondering whether to answer or not, or how much to tell him. Marcus kept his determined face, not letting up.

"Put it this way, Williams," Moody muttered finally, "they say old Mad-Eye's obsessed with catching Dark wizards...but I'm nothing - _nothing_ \- compared to Barty Crouch."

 _"That's not anything new,"_ Marcus thought. _"At least, not to me. I've heard plenty of stories on Mr. Crouch from Dad."_

"Professor Moody," Harry said this time. "D'you think...could this have anything to do with...maybe Mr. Crouch thinks there's something going on..."

"Like what?" said Moody sharply.

"I don't know," Harry muttered, "odd stuff's been happening lately, hasn't it? It's been in the _Daily Prophet_...the Dark Mark at the World Cup, and the Death Eaters and everything..."

"And with the tournament debacle, as well," stated Marcus. "Perhaps Crouch is trying to dig up any information he can to tie it all together."

Both of Moody's mismatched eyes widened.

"You're sharp boys, all right," he said. His magical eye roved back to the Marauder's Map. "It's just as Williams said, Crouch could be thinking along those lines," he said slowly. "Very possible...there have been some funny rumors flying around lately - helped along by Rita Skeeter, of course. It's making a lot of people nervous, I reckon." A grim smile twisted his lopsided mouth. "Oh if there's one thing I hate," he muttered, more to himself than to them, and his magical eye was fixed on the left-hand corner of the map, "it's a Death Eater who walked free..."

This statement made Marcus' eyes narrow dangerously. There was no doubt in Marcus' mind that there was more behind that statement than what could be revealed on the surface and he made a mental note to investigate this later.

"And now I want to ask _you_ a question, Potter," said Moody in a more businesslike tone.

Marcus' heart dropped. It was most definitely going to be about the Marauder's Map, which was in itself a dubious object, as was the story of how it fell into Harry's hands. That map incriminated not only Harry, but their fathers, Fred and George Weasley, and Uncle Remus, their last Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Moody waved the map in front of Harry -

"Can I borrow this?"

"Oh!" said Harry. "Yeah, okay."

"Good boy," growled Moody. "I can make good use of this...this might be _exactly_ what I've been looking for...Right, bed, boys, come on, now..."

They climbed to the top of the stairs together, Moody still examining the map as though it was a treasure the like of which he had never seen before. They walked in silence to the door of Moody's office, where he stopped and looked up at Harry and Marcus.

"You ever thought of a career as Aurors, boys?"

"Can't think of anything else I'd want to do," Marcus stated with confidence.

"No," said Harry, who sounded taken aback.

"You want to consider it, Potter," said Moody, nodding and looking at Harry thoughtfully. "Yes, indeed...and incidentally...I'm guessing you two weren't just out on a nighttime stroll, right?"

"You could say that," said Marcus, slightly smirking.

"Er - no," said Harry, grinning. "I've been working out the clue."

Moody winked at them, his magical eye going haywire again.

"Nothing like a nighttime stroll to give you ideas, Potter...See you two in the morning, boys..."

He went back into his office, staring down at the Marauder's Map again, and closed the door behind him.

Marcus and Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower in silence. Tonight had proven to be a treasure trove of information and mystery. Between the sudden appearance of Mr. Crouch on the Marauder's Map despite his frequent no-shows and Snape's consistent suspicious activity around Professor Moody, they only seemed to make things more confusing. However, it was Professor Moody that weighed heaviest on his mind. The man was already laden with his own set of mysteries, but what disturbed him the most was the teacher's subtle actions. For someone who was supposed to be innocent in all of this, his subtle actions certainly didn't come across that way.

Even when he was laying on his four-poster bed ten minutes later, ensuring Twink's comfortable position on his bed, he wondered just what other mysteries Professor Moody was concealing...

 **And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review, as they will improve on my skills as a writer! Also, if you have any questions you'd like to ask me, feel free to leave me a PM and, I promise, I will answer your question(s) to the best of my ability. Otherwise, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!**


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